Where Demons Hide
by catatoniccat
Summary: Set after 1x13 (Waiting for the Man). John, Chas, and Zed investigate forest fires that may be linked to one of Zed's visions. Meanwhile, John and Zed can't seem to forget that moment in the bar. My first fanfic. Reviews/constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated! Rated T because of the show.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Zed sat curled up in the armchair in the great room of the mill house, mindlessly sketching out a new vision that she had been seeing for a few days now. It was actually quite beautiful, she noted, as the charcoal lines came together to create a picturesque scene of pine trees high up on a hill top. She wasn't sure where this vision had come from, but she was glad that it wasn't the usual dark, intimidating visions that usually plagued her mind.

Across the room on the sofa sat John, sipping a glass of pale amber liquid and smoking a cigarette. He was leaning over a book on the coffee table in front of him, scanning the pages rapidly. Too rapid, in fact, to actually be reading. He didn't look up at Zed, and she didn't look at him.

But Chas was looking at both of them. As he sat in an armchair between the two, he glanced back and forth between John and Zed. The tension in the air was so heavy, he could have cut it with a knife. Zed seemed very focused on her sketch, and John on his spell book. But as Chas watched him closer, it became apparent that the exorcist wasn't really reading.

"Ahem," Chas cleared his throat in an attempt to break up the deafening, awkward silence. It had been nearly a month since Zed and John had returned from working the case with Detective Corrigan, and ever since, he noted, the two had barely exchanged a word with each other.

"Yes, Chas?" Zed asked, without looking up from her sketch. She had just started penciling in the flowing lines of a creek that cut through the pine trees on the hilltop.

Chas glanced over at John. He hadn't looked up from the spell book.

"Well," Chas started, glancing back and forth between the two of them, "I was looking at the paper the other day, and there's a headline about two women found murdered in the same alleyway not far from here."

"Prostitutes?" Zed asked. She still hadn't looked up.

Chas sighed. "Yes, but-"

"Not our thing, mate." John stated abruptly. He took a sip of whiskey, squashed the butt of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and proceeded to light up another. All the while without averting his gaze from the spell book.

Silence fell between the three of them again. Chas looked hopelessly at his two friends, then finally stood up, shaking his head. "I don't know what's gotten into the two of you lately, but we can't just sit here all day doing nothing."

Zed shrugged, still sketching the flowing water of the creek. "I'm enjoying the down time."

Chas looked at John, but the exorcist didn't say anything. Defeated, Chas turned and headed back towards the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

Meanwhile, Zed finished her sketch of the scenic mountaintop. From what she could tell, it was a very remote location, with dense trees and uneven terrain. She didn't recognize the scene at all, so she sighed and tossed the drawing on the seat of the armchair next to her. It was then that she looked up and stole a glance at John. He was puffing a cigarette, still reading the spell book. His eyes were narrowed, as if trying hard to focus on what he was reading. It was then that Zed remembered why she had avoided looking at him lately. When she looked at him, all she saw was the betrayed expression on his face when he had spotted her across the bar, just after Jim Corrigan had kissed her. She was pretty sure she had just imagined it anyway, but the idea that John might actually be jealous prompted her to avoid the subject—and him—altogether.

Zed stood up and made her way to the kitchen where Chas sat at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. She sat down, and Chas motioned to the pot of hot brew on the table. "Coffee?" he offered.

She shook her head. "No thanks." Her eyes wandered over to the back of the newspaper in Chas's hands. "Still reading about those dead prostitutes?"

Chas chuckled. "Nah. John's right, it doesn't sound like our kind of thing."

Zed sighed. Though she _was _enjoying the down time, a part of her still wished there was some sort of case. It would be nice to leave the mill house and find a distraction from the tense, heavy air between her and John. Maybe they could just forget about the whole thing if there was a job to be done and people to save.

Chas laid down the newspaper and took a gulp of coffee. "Something's bound to pop up in this town sooner or later," he mused.

Zed didn't reply, but absentmindedly scanned the newspaper headlines from across the table. She saw the article Chas had mentioned about the murdered women, and then the adjacent article, stating that the police had a suspect in custody. _Sure enough, _she thought. _Nothing otherworldly about another whack job killing prostitutes. _She continued looking over the headlines until one in particular caught her eye:

FOREST FIRES STILL A MYSTERY FOR LOCAL GAME WARDENS

Zed reached across the table and grabbed the paper. She skimmed the article as Chas watched her, confused.

"What is it?" he asked.

Zed didn't reply immediately. Her brow furrowed and her lips moved silently as she read the article. Then she laid the paper down in front of Chas, pointing a finger at the image that went along with the article. It was an image of the same forest she had just sketched, only the trees were burnt black and the creek bed was dry.

"This," she said, tapping the photograph for emphasis. "I saw this exact mountaintop in my vision."

Chas looked at her, confused, then looked at the photo in front of him. "You had a vision of a forest fire?" he asked.

"I know it's weird," she said. "But that's exactly what I saw. I sketched it, too. And now the same exact place has gone up in flames? It can't be a coincidence."

Chas looked over the article, then back up at Zed. "You sure about this?"

She nodded. The fear and concern in her eyes told Chas there wasn't a doubt in her mind.

"Well, it's certainly worth looking into, then," he said. "We should talk to John and see what he thinks."

Zed stiffened as Chas mentioned John. "Er- Maybe _you _should talk to him," she suggested.

Chas eyed her with confusion. So his suspicions had been correct—Zed was purposely avoiding John. "What exactly happened with you two?" he questioned cautiously.

Zed glanced behind her shoulder, as if to make sure John wasn't standing there in the doorway. What _had _happened back in that bar? It should have been nothing, really. Was she not allowed to have a little fun every once in a while? Besides, Jim had kissed_ her_. She had only kissed him back to be polite. The man was going to die, after all, and she couldn't exactly turn down an innocent kiss from a man who was just trying to make every moment count, as he had said. But she couldn't rid herself of the image of John watching her from the entrance, his eyes reflecting emotions she never would have imagined the arrogant, self-centered exorcist could feel.

After a long moment, Zed sighed. Chas was a trusted friend, and she hated to leave him in the dark about all the tense emotions in the mill house lately. She looked down at her lap. "Jim and I kissed," she said quietly, glancing up at him to observe his reaction.

"You and Jim?" Chas asked. "Detective Jim?"

She nodded.

Chas rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. "So I take it John found out, then."

She nodded again.

Chas shook his head, still laughing. "John's like a child, sometimes. He'll get over it."

"I guess," she replied. John probably would get over it, but she hated to think that she had caused the rift between them. Then again, did he really have the right to be angry with her? Wasn't he always sleeping around with random girls?

Chas stood up and grabbed the newspaper off the table. "I'll go see what he has to say."

Zed sighed, then reluctantly stood up to follow him. It was at that moment that the kitchen began to blur and go dark. Zed froze in her tracks, watching as the refrigerator was replaced by a moonlit window, and a nearby counter top became a tall, oak dresser. She spun around, and her eyes fell on the small figure of a child, curled up asleep under a pink and yellow comforter.

As the clarity of the vision increased, Zed took a step towards the sleeping child. As she got closer, she could see it was a young girl, about seven or eight, with long brunette hair. As she watched the little girl sleep soundly, she shivered. The room had suddenly gotten very cold.

A sudden shattering of glass made Zed spin around to face the window. She stood, frozen in terror, as a thin, black figure made its way across the shattered threshold and into the young girl's room. A sudden, overpowering odor filled the room, like that of burning flesh. Zed couldn't make out any distinguishing features of the entity, but she did see claw-like fingers and the unmistakable glint of fangs. She tried to move towards the sleeping girl to protect her, but she couldn't move. The shadow figure took a step towards her, and now Zed could see yellow eyes. She wanted to scream, but her breath was caught in her chest. The figure closed in until it was in Zed's face, but then it walked straight through her, reaching out for the little girl, still sound asleep under the covers.

Zed could move now, and she spun around to watch helplessly as the black entity scooped the little girl up into its long, grotesque arms. The girl woke up then, and as soon as she saw the figure, she screamed bloody murder.

"Stop! No!" Zed shouted, moving to help the little girl. "Leave her be!" She screamed at the entity, but it was to no avail. She lifted an arm as if to reach out and hit the creature, but suddenly it was gone. The little girl's bedroom was replaced by the mill house kitchen. Zed blinked in the sudden light, and focused her eyes to meet John's concerned gaze. He was gripping her shoulders tightly, searching her expression for reassurance that she was there, with him, in the mill house.

"Zed, are you alright?" he asked, eyes glued to her.

As the vision melted away, Zed was able to focus on John. She absently noted that it was the first time in the last week or two he had actually looked her in the eyes. She noticed Chas knelt beside her, and realized that at some point during the horrifying event she had fallen on the floor.

"You okay?" John asked again. He turned to Chas. "Get her some water, will ya?"

Chas jumped up and headed for the kitchen cabinets.

Zed shivered. She couldn't shake the image of the dark entity and the horrible smell that had come with it. She looked at John still, and he could see the pure terror in her eyes. His concern for her grew, and for a brief moment, he forgot all about the incident at the bar.

"What did you see, love?" he asked quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thanks for the kind reviews! Here is chapter 2. It's pretty short and uneventful, but I promise the action is on its way! Thanks for reading!_

Chapter 2

John had his hands jammed in his pockets, pacing slowly in front of the sofa where Zed sat. His head was bent down as he stared at the old wood floor of the mill house, deep in thought. Zed was wrapped up in a blanket and sipping a glass of water, still trying to forget the horrible scene she had just witnessed. The creature had been terrifying enough, but that smell—the smell was what really got to her. And what would become of the poor girl? She shuddered at the thought, and then looked up at John. The exorcist had stopped pacing now, but continued staring down at the wood planks.

"Do you know what it could be?" Zed asked quietly. She was still hoarse with fear.

John was quiet, deep in thought. He finally looked up at Zed, and she could see the worry written all over his face. After a moment, he spoke.

"It's most likely a demon," he said. "As to what kind, we can't be sure yet." He looked away and started pacing again. Whatever thoughts he was having, he wasn't sharing them with Zed.

Chas came into the room then, carrying a mug of something warm and steaming. "Here," he said, handing the mug to Zed. "Tea will warm you up better than water." Zed took the mug, attempting a gracious smile. Chas plopped onto the sofa next to her, then turned to John. "Could this creature really be linked with the forest fires?"

John shrugged. "It's a possibility. Demons and fire tend to go together a bit like gin and tonic." He looked at Zed. "You said you smelled burning flesh?"

She nodded and sipped the hot tea, but her eyes were focused elsewhere. As much as she wanted to forget the horrifying vision, she was trying to remember small details of the location that may help them find the little girl. She knew it was only a short matter of time before her vision came true, and that poor girl may never be seen again. She didn't want to even consider the thought that her vision may have already happened.

As if he could read her thoughts, Chas leaned forward and pulled his laptop off the coffee table. "I'll scour the web and see if I can find any reports of a missing girl. Might as well start there."

John nodded. "Think I might try and head to the location of those fires, see what's to be found there. What was that place called again?"

"Clingman's Dome," Zed replied. "About three hours North." She watched as John walked over to the bookshelves to grab his bag and a few other miscellaneous items.

"Right, then," he said, as he hastily dropped a few books, candles, and talismans of sorts into his leather bag. "I'll try and be back by sunrise. Call me if you find anything out." Having finished his packing, he made his way towards the iron staircase.

Zed hopped up, nearly spilling hot tea on herself. "I'll go with you," she offered. She knew he wouldn't want her to, but she also felt compelled to visit the location of the fires. Besides, she wasn't one to let John tell her what to do. Chas, meanwhile, glanced up from his internet search to look back and forth at John and Zed.

John immediately shook his head. "No. Stay here. Chas will need your help finding that girl."

"Actually, I think she should go with you," said Chas. "You'll need Zed's visions out there. I've got my Wifi here."

Zed smiled at Chas in appreciation, then looked back at John. The exorcist rolled his eyes, realizing he was outnumbered. "Fine," he said, as he turned his back and started up the stairs. "Be ready in ten minutes." Zed watched him for a moment, halfway regretting her decision. John had never been the warm and friendly type in the first place, but he had become even more distant with her, it seemed. The concern he had shown her when she had experienced the horrifying vision was gone, and he was back to giving her the cold shoulder.

The door upstairs opened and closed with a slightly louder bang than usual. Chas glanced up to make sure John had gone outside, then he looked over at Zed. "Like I said, he'll get over it. Give him time to pout."

Zed sighed. "I just don't get it, Chas."

Chas shrugged. "Well you two have three hours on the road to sort things out," he said, offering her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I guess so," Zed replied. She wasn't exactly looking forward to spending three hours with John in the confined cab of the truck, but she knew there had to be some sort of reconciling conversation at some point. The three hour drive to Clingman's Dome would be the perfect opportunity. She was anxious to clear the air and get it over with.

After saying goodbye to Chas, Zed climbed the iron staircase and grabbed her satchel that sat by the door. She stepped out into the mild spring air, taking in the beauty of the budding trees surrounding the mill house. It really had been a while since she'd gotten out of the dark mill house, and her spirits were lifted slightly by the fresh air and sunshine.

John sat in the driver's seat of the truck, the engine idling. He was looking out the window away from her, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Zed hesitated and watched him for a moment, noting that he had been smoking a lot more lately. Then, he turned his head and saw her. He lifted an eyebrow questioningly and rolled down the passenger window. "Coming?" he called.

Zed nodded, but hesitated a moment longer before walking over and climbing into the passenger seat beside him. He didn't look at her, but shifted the truck into gear. Silence fell between them as the truck sped off down the dirt drive.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: At long last, here is Chapter 3! Sincere apologies for my slow publishing of new chapters, but school takes up a lot of my time. As always, reviews mean the world to me! Thank you for sticking with it and enjoy!_

Zed watched the trees fly by outside her window as the old blue truck flew down the interstate. The weather was beautiful today, and she cracked the window slightly to let the cool breeze enter the cab of the truck. She smiled to herself, glad she was finally able to get out of the mill house for a change. For a moment, she forgot about the pouting exorcist sitting next to her in the driver's seat, and for a long while, the two sat in silence.

"Any more visions?" John asked her suddenly, throwing a glance in her direction beneath a pair of sunglasses.

Zed looked at John, surprised that he was speaking to her. They had been in the truck for nearly an hour without so much as exchanging a word. It wasn't that Zed didn't want to talk to him; she simply didn't know what to say. "Well," she started in response to his question, "not visions, really. But I've been getting a few premonitions."

"Premonitions?" he inquired, without moving his gaze from the road. "What does that mean?"

Zed shrugged. "Feelings, I guess. About these fires. I think they're linked to something...ominous." She shuddered as she recalled the image from the newspaper article—trees burnt to a crisp, the dry, cracked dirt where the creek used to be, and no sign of life anywhere. The breeze coming in from the cracked window suddenly felt cold on Zed's bare arms, and she rolled the window back up.

John plucked a burnt out cigarette from between his lips, rolled his own window down, and flicked the butt of the cigarette out into the wind. He glanced at Zed, who glared at him when he didn't roll the window back up. "You can't seriously be cold right now," he said.

Zed sighed and shook her head. She reached down into her satchel sitting between her feet and pulled out a sweater. "I don't just see things with my visions," she said. "I feel them, too. And these forest fires—well, they're making me cold. It doesn't make much sense, but when I see the fire, I'm cold."

John stared at the road ahead, and after a minute, he rolled his window up. Zed watched him. "Do you know what this all means?" She asked quietly.

Beneath the sunglasses, John's eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation. Forest fires, especially in the Appalachians, were well-known among the supernatural community as being a sign of demonic activity. The fact that the fires were concentrated in a relatively small area was just further validation that they were not the result of any natural circumstances. And then, there were Zed's visions. For John, it all pointed to something very evil and very dangerous. The exorcist looked over at Zed, noting her worried expression.

"Probably just a lesser demon," he said. He wasn't really lying—it _could_ be a weak demon. But then again, he didn't really believe that. At the same time, there was no point in worrying Zed before they even knew what it was. "I'll send it home with its tail between its legs and we'll make it back in time for a nice 2-hour kip. Maybe Chas will know something about that girl you saw by then."

Zed had nearly forgotten about the little girl. But as soon as John mentioned it, she remembered the horrifying image of the demon that had broken into the little girl's room. There was no forgetting the dagger-like fangs and the glassy, yellow eyes. But the smell had been the worst. Zed's face twisted in disgust as she recalled the pungent odor of charred, rotting flesh. Her temples began to throb in pain. She groaned and leaned forward, her head between her knees.

John glanced back and forth between Zed and the highway in front of him. "You alright?" he asked.

Zed didn't reply, but pressed her fingers to her temples to alleviate the pounding in her skull. It wasn't often that just the thought of a previous vision affected her to this extent. But her memory of the creature—the sight, the smell, the general aura of its presence—gave Zed the chills and excruciating headaches.

The exorcist grew concerned with Zed's silence. He steered the truck off the interstate and onto the nearest exit, then parked the truck at an Amoco station. He switched the engine off and looked at Zed, who still had her head between her knees. John didn't know what to do—he never knew what to do when she had her headaches. "Are you getting another vision?" he asked quietly.

Zed shook her head beneath her dark curls. Slowly, the pounding in her skull was fading, and her head began to clear. She turned slowly to look at John, squinting as the remnants of the pain dissipated from her temple. Her vision was blurry at first, but as it cleared, she saw the concern in John's face, etching lines between his brows. "I'm fine," she said weakly, straightening in the seat and turning to open the passenger door. "Just need some fresh air."

John watched as she slid out of the seat and closed the door weakly, so that it clicked shut behind her. She leaned against the truck, her head drooping as she tried to focus on something—_anything_ else. The exorcist hesitated for a moment before opening his own door and coming around the front of the truck to stand next to Zed. He watched her as he pulled a box of Silk Cut from his trouser pocket and lit up a cigarette. Zed looked over at him as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

"You should really quit," she said, shaking her head in disgust.

John just chuckled, taking another drag. "Yeah, yeah. Says you and everyone else."

For a long while, the two were quiet. Zed focused on the sounds of the traffic whizzing by on the interstate, and the occasional jingling of the door to the gas station as patrons came and went. In the distance, she could see the higher peaks of the Appalachians. They had already come a good distance, and were considerably high up in the mountains. But Clingmans Dome was still a good seventy-five miles away, and she knew they couldn't waste much more time. She turned to John, who had just finished his cigarette and was stamping it out in the gravel with his boot heel. "We should get going," she said.

"You sure?" John asked, as he searched her face for remnants of the pain that the vision had caused her.

She nodded. "Of course."

John glanced up at the Amoco sign. "Better get some petrol first. We've still got a good hour on the road."

Zed nodded and climbed back into the truck and waited as John pumped the gas. Without realizing it, she was watching him outside the window as he leaned against the truck. When the nozzle clicked, he lifted it back onto the pump, then climbed into the truck next to her. He looked over at her, noticing something in her expression.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked.

Zed nodded and turned away. He was always asking her if she was alright, and she always responded affirmatively, as if it were a built-in reflex. But in truth, she wasn't all right. Her most recent vision was still eating at her, and she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling in her gut and the dull ache in her head.

"Should be something for headaches in the glove box," John said, recognizing the familiar look on her face. He leaned over and unlatched the small compartment, rifling through some maps, batteries, and a flashlight before finding a small first-aid kit. "Ibuprofen or something." He looked over at Zed, and then realized that he had leaned in a little too close. His face was mere inches from hers, but she didn't move away. Their eyes met, and very briefly, John's gaze shifted downward. When he flicked his eyes back up, he saw something in Zed's eyes—longing, it seemed, but hurt also. There was a lot of pain in her eyes. His heart ached for her, and slowly, cautiously, he moved in a little closer.

Zed's breath caught in her chest as she held his gaze. She noted that he was looking at her in much the same way he had looked at her in the bar back in New Orleans. She could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath and the faint scent of whiskey. Her eyes traveled down to his lips. His head titled slightly, and she sat there, frozen.

John's phone rang loudly, causing them both to jump. The exorcist broke his gaze and set the first-aid box in Zed's lap, then leaned back into his seat to fish his cell from his coat pocket. Zed let out a huge breath, blinking in confusion. She looked down at the white box in her lap. What had just happened? Her mind was racing, and she barely heard the conversation John was having right next to her over the phone. She attempted to decipher that look she had seen in his eyes, but she couldn't quite place it. She touched a finger to her lip, only vaguely aware of John talking right next to her.

After a few minutes, John let out a frustrated sigh and stuffed his cell back into his coat pocket. "That was Chas," he stated, without looking at Zed. He turned the key in the ignition and steered the truck out of the Amoco parking lot. "Says he found a report of a seven-year-old girl taken from her room three nights ago. Matches the description you gave us, and the kidnapper left nothing but a broken window." He glanced over at Zed as he merged onto the interstate. She was still staring at the first-aid kit in her lap, and was quiet for a long moment. At some point, John's words clicked with her.

"It's taken her already?" She said finally, looking worriedly at John. "But I only just had that vision this morning."

John shrugged, maintaining his focus on the road. "Guess your mind was occupied with other things. Visions tend to come better when you're more focused."

Zed looked at him, confused. She hadn't felt like she was focused on 'other things,' but then again, John seemed to understand her visions better than she did. "Where was the girl taken from?" She asked him.

"That's the funny thing," John replied, "Her house is just a few miles from where we're headed. Looks like your visions are connected after all."

Zed closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest. The ache in her temple was coming back now, and she began to wonder about what would happen—or what had already happened—to the innocent girl. John looked over at her, seeing the pain written on her face. "Did you find that Ibuprofen?" he asked.

Zed winced and popped open the little box, digging through its contents until she found the small bottle of pain killers. She took a couple of the pills, then leaned back and closed her eyes again. "I don't think they'll work for my kind of headaches," she said without opening her eyes.

"It's worth a shot," John said, although he knew she was probably right.

They drove onward towards the pale blue mountains on the horizon. Zed kept her eyes closed, but she certainly wasn't sleeping. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and images from her visions. She saw the girl being carried away in the demon's long arms, the yellow eyes, and the white fangs. Then she saw the burnt trees of Clingmans Dome and the blackened soil. The deathly silent mountaintop, charred and void of life, gave her the chills. But when she pushed those visions from her mind, she saw John. She couldn't forget the fleeting moment that had passed between them. Had he been about to kiss her?

John occasionally glanced at Zed as they continued down the interstate, but she didn't move or say a word. It was clear to him that the visions had taken a toll on her, and yet here she was, fighting the fight with him. He silently wished there was something he could do for her—some way he could make the visions less painful. But he knew it was wishful thinking.

The truck exited from the interstate, through a small town and onto a narrow, winding road. On both sides was a dense pine forest. The road climbed further up into the mountains, and the pavement eventually gave way to a dry, dirt road. Wooden signs painted with white letters confirmed that they were headed in the right direction—One read, 'Clingmans Dome Visitor's Center- 3 miles.' Zed had opened her eyes now, and was taking in the beauty of the surrounding forest. At least this particular area hadn't been touched by fires.

A high-pitched drone caught their attention suddenly. It was quiet at first, but the noise grew louder very quickly. John looked up in the rear view mirror, and saw the flashing lights of a firetruck swiftly climbing the mountain road behind them. "That's not a good sign," he said. He veered the truck to the side of the road to make way for the speeding vehicle.

Zed gasped as the truck flew by, a cloud of dirt swirling in its wake. "Another fire?" She looked up the road, but couldn't see very far through the trees.

John steered the truck back onto the road, and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. They sped up the steep mountain, following the now-distant whine of the fire engine. After several more twists and turns, Zed could finally see a thick plume of black smoke rising from the trees. But as they got closer, she could see it wasn't the trees that were burning. "_¡__Dios mio!_" she breathed in disbelief.

John stopped the truck abruptly as they pulled into a flat, open expanse of dirt. Three additional fire trucks were at the scene, lights still flashing. Firefighters rushed around chaotically, grabbing hoses and dragging them towards the source of the thick smoke—a large, two-story log building. Bright orange flames curled from the windows, and the smoke was billowing out from every opening, including a large hole in the roof of the lodge. John and Zed got out of the truck to watch as the firemen attempted to tame the massive blaze.

Zed watched in horror. The flames were massive, the plume of jet black smoke even more so. She couldn't tear her eyes from the inferno, and even from a good distance away, she could feel the intense heat. As she watched the embers float up into the blue sky, swirling with the black smoke, a sudden pain gripped her chest. She clasped her hands in front of her sternum as a sudden fit of violent coughing wracked her body. Her vision was blurring, but as she looked at the blazing building, a tall, dark figure in the second-story window caught her attention. Her vision went black before she could figure out who—or _what_—the figure was. John turned just in time to see Zed collapse into the dirt.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thank you for all the kind reviews, everyone! Here is chapter 4...it's mostly dialogue, but every story has to have some of that, right? And if you're hoping for more JohnxZed stuff, I have that planned in upcoming chapters, promise. :) Chapter 5 is already underway, so hopefully I have that up here a little sooner! Thanks again for the support!_

Zed groaned and rolled over. Her head was hurting again, but it wasn't the usual vision-induced ache that she was used to. Rather, she felt as if she had hit her head—hard. Dazed and slightly confused, she blinked her eyes several times. As her vision came into focus, she glanced around her unfamiliar surroundings. She didn't recognize the room she was in, and didn't know how she had gotten there. She rubbed her eyes blearily as she sat up, and then realized she had been lying in a bed underneath several layers of blankets.

"Good to see you up and moving," said a familiar voice behind her.

Zed had expected to hear John, so she was somewhat surprised when she heard instead the gruff, American accent. "Hey, Chas," she mumbled, rubbing the sore area on the back of her head as she looked over at him. He was sitting in an armchair next to a small fireplace, reading a book of some sort.

"How are you feeling?" Chas asked her, setting the book down on an end table nearby. "John said you went down like a lead balloon."

"Oh I'm okay," Zed replied, her voice still weak from her ordeal. Her memory was returning now—the fire, the thick black smoke, and the dark figure in the second story window. Then she began to recall the sensation of suffocating, as if she had been right there inside the burning building. The memory frightened her, and for the time being, she pushed it from her consciousness. She instead took to examining the small, unfamiliar room. "Where are we?" She asked, looking over at Chas.

"Some backwoods campsite," Chas replied. "We'll be staying in this cabin for a while it looks like."

Zed noticed the kitchenette off to one side, and the plush sofa across from the armchair where Chas sat. The dark walls were made of smooth, rounded logs, and the flames in the small fireplace cast dancing shadows around the room. She was pleasantly surprised when she realized how cozy the place felt. The bed, especially, was warm and inviting. But she looked back over at Chas, still trying to take in the situation. "Why are we here exactly?"

Chas sighed, and bowed his head slightly. "John thinks we're dealing with something pretty serious here. He asked me to come right away after you blacked out."

"How serious?" Zed asked, although deep down she had known that this was not going to be a run-of-the-mill trip to send a weak, petty demon back to hell. This thing was powerful—its presence alone set fire wherever it went. Zed knew it would not be banished without a fight.

Chas shrugged. "John's looking into that right now."

As if on cue, the door near the kitchenette opened and the exorcist himself strode in. He tossed his leather bag off to the side, turned around, and paused when he saw Zed sitting up in bed. He looked surprised for a fleeting moment, and then his shoulders dropped in relief. "Good to see you up and at 'em, love."

Zed couldn't help but smile. "You should be used to me falling over by now," she said.

John smirked and shook his head. "I am. Still scares the hell outta me every time."

From his spot by the fireplace, Chas cleared his throat. John looked over at him. "Yeah, mate?"

"What'd you find out?" Chas asked, looking back and forth between Zed and John.

The exorcist sighed and ran a hand through his frazzled hair. "Someone's summoned a very powerful demon here. That fire claimed three more lives."

Zed gasped. "Three people are dead?"

John gritted his teeth. "Possibly four, counting the missing girl."

"So you think the fires are linked to her disappearance then?" Chas asked, an edge of fear in his voice. He couldn't help thinking of Geraldine with these types of cases, and the young girl's abduction reminded him all too much of the time his own daughter's soul had been held captive by Felix Faust. It was a situation no parent ever wanted to be put in, and he found himself empathizing with the missing girl's parents.

"Yeah, I talked to a game warden," John replied. "Said the first fire happened the evening before the girl was abducted. But obviously they're not making any connections between the two."

"And what do you think the connection is?" Zed asked.

"Not sure. That'll require some good ol'-fashioned detective work. I thought we'd start by talking to that girl's parents."

"Er—parent," Chas corrected. "She lives with her mother. Apparently the father is in jail."

"Lovely," John replied. "That's one less suspect."

Zed furrowed her brow in confusion. "You think a mother would have done this to her own child?"

"With what I've seen, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised," the exorcist replied.

Zed put a hand to her forehead in disbelief. "That poor girl..." she said quietly. A thick knot formed in her stomach as she recalled the demon that had carried the girl away into the night. She felt weighted with guilt for not having had the vision sooner—maybe then, they could have gotten to the girl before the demon did.

John could see Zed was mentally beating herself. He knew she took her visions very seriously—as if they were a sign from God himself that someone needed to be saved. And now that it may be too late, she looked even more distressed and worn down.

"We'll get a fresh start in the morning," John said, watching Zed carefully. "We can go talk to the girl's mother then—hopefully find out what's going on."

Chas nodded in agreement. "I think we could all use some rest." He stood up from the armchair and headed in the direction of the kitchenette.

Zed took her hand from her forehead to look around at the small room. "This cabin you rented only has one bed," she stated in a confused tone.

As Chas passed John, he gave the exorcist a heavy pat on the shoulder. "I think John's trying to suggest something there, Zed."

John rolled his eyes and glared at his friend. "You're bloody hilarious, mate."

Chas smirked as he poured himself a glass of water at the counter. He lifted the glass and nodded in Zed's direction, raising an eyebrow. She laughed.

"For your information," John started, slightly on the defensive, "That sofa pulls out. Chas and I will take shifts sleeping there. I don't want all three of us knocked out with spontaneous Hell-fires lighting up all over the bloody mountainside."

"Yeah, yeah," said Chas, downing the contents of his glass and walking over to where his suitcase lay next to the wall. "But I get to sleep first. I'm beat," he said, rummaging through his bag until he pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Oh yeah, sure, mate. Can you see how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed I am?" John's voice, laden with sarcasm, didn't seem to sway Chas.

"I can stay up," Zed offered suddenly, "Apparently I've been sleeping all day anyway."

"No," said John and Chas in unison.

Zed looked hurt for a moment, and then irritated. "Why not?"

"Well no offense, Zed," Chas started, "but every time something happens, you kinda black out."

Zed crossed her arms. "Not _every _time," she stated indignantly.

John shook his head. Zed was something else. "Just sleep, love. I'll take the first shift. You need to get some rest anyway, seeing as you may have to provide us with some visions if our interview tomorrow turns out to be a dead end."

She hesitated a moment, but decided that John was probably right. The least she could do now to help the missing girl was use her visions to try and locate her. It would be best if she had a clear mind to do it.

Chas, who had finished changing in the bathroom, walked over to the living area and rolled the sofa out. He yawned, nodded a goodnight to John and Zed, and plopped onto the thin, squeaky mattress. His head had barely hit the pillow before his breathing became slow and rhythmic. John, meanwhile, went to the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He took a seat at the small table, sipping the drink with a distant look in his eyes.

Zed watched him for a moment, wishing that with all her psychic abilities, she could somehow read John Constantine's thoughts. Of course, she'd never been able to do that, although she couldn't help but wish it were possible—especially when he was quiet and contemplative. "Do you think she's still alive?" She asked him quietly.

John involuntarily twitched is head to one side at the question. Of course, he couldn't say for certain whether the girl was alive or dead. But he had always made his best decisions on instinct, and it was his gut feeling that the girl's chances were slim at best. The exorcist let out a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. "I don't know," he finally replied. It was at times like these he wondered what the point of fighting demons was if he was never able to save anyone. He had damned a girl to hell after all, so why was he even still trying? Perhaps Newcastle had been a sign that he was in the wrong business—that no matter what he did, people around him always wound up dead. John took a big gulp of whiskey in an attempt to drown out the harrowing thoughts.

It was clear to Zed that John wasn't exactly in the mood to talk. She could tell something was eating at him, but reason told her not to push it. With a sigh, she laid her head back into the pillows. She thought again of the innocent girl, whose name—she absently noted—she didn't even know. Thoughts raced through her mind for a long while, and it wasn't until the early morning hours that she finally closed her eyes and slept.

The young girl awoke with a start. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she pushed up off the cold, hard floor where she had been lying. She looked around to see where she was, but it was dark—very dark. She could hardly tell that her eyes were even open, and she blinked several times just to make sure. Her body was sore, and she was hungry. She wanted to get up and run, but her muscles ached and she couldn't see where to go anyway.

"Mommy?" She spoke cautiously. Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, muffled by the stillness around her. She suddenly felt hopelessly alone. "Mom!" she called again, a little louder this time. She used her arms to slide herself across the floor slowly, wincing as her body ached in protest. Her back found a solid wall, and she leaned against it, panting heavily. What should have been a small effort seemed to have sapped all of her strength.

She began to cry. Quietly, at first, as a few tears fell from her chin and into her lap. But her silent tears soon turned into wailing sobs that echoed in the blackness around her. She was confused, in pain, and desperately alone. "MOM!" she cried, but the darkness only mocked her with an eerie silence.


	5. Chapter 5

_Voila, Chapter 5! Enjoy!_

Chas parked in the driveway of the upscale, suburban home and switched off the cab engine. He glanced up at the rear view mirror to look at Zed in the backseat. "You sure you're feeling up to this?" he asked her.

Zed nodded. Her face was set in an expression of firm determination.

"Right, then," said John. He tossed a cigarette butt out the passenger window and turned to look at Chas. "I think you should stay here, mate," he said. "I've learned it's best not to overwhelm a grieving woman."

Chas nodded in agreement. "I'll keep an eye on things out here."

John heaved open the door of the cab and stepped onto the driveway. He looked around to survey the neighborhood, as Chas leaned over to look up at him from the driver's seat.

"John," said Chas, "Remember she's lost a child. Try to show a little sympathy, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," the exorcist replied, taking a step in the direction of the front porch.

"And John—" Chas called, before the exorcist could go any further. John halted and turned to look at Chas, his expression giving away a hint of annoyance.

"Shannon Woodward is her name. Her daughter is Kara."

John nodded and continued toward the front porch as Zed followed. When they reached the front door, she turned to John.

"What exactly is the plan here?" she asked him.

"No devious plan today, love," he replied, rummaging around in his coat pockets until he pulled out his playing card. "We'll just ask a few questions and have a look around the place." He reached out and rang the doorbell.

"And what if she doesn't want us snooping around her house?" Zed questioned.

John smirked. "She can't say no to us."

Zed was about to ask what he meant when the door opened. The woman standing there looked to be in her mid-thirties, with faint wrinkles on her forehead and crow's feet by her eyes that hinted at the hardship she'd endured over the past few days.

"Morning, Ms. Woodward," John greeted as he flipped the card over to reveal his new identity. "I'm Special Agent Constantine, and this is my partner, Agent Martin. We're investigating your daughter's disappearance and wondered if we might ask a few questions."

The woman scrutinized the I.D. for a moment, then looked up at John with a puzzled expression. "I already spoke with the police and the detectives," she said.

"Right," John said, "but we just have a few follow-up questions."

Shannon Woodward hesitated a moment, but then nodded and opened the door wider. "Come in," she said.

John looked at Zed and gave her his best 'I told you so' smirk. She glared at him as they followed Shannon down a short hallway. "Really?" Zed hissed, leaning in so the woman ahead of them wouldn't hear. "The FBI?"

The exorcist shrugged and stashed the card back in his coat pocket. At the front room, Shannon gestured to a couch. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"No, thank you," John replied. "We won't be here long."

Shannon nodded and took a seat in an armchair across from John and Zed. She appeared very tired, and Zed could now see dark circles under her eyes. Her heart went out to the woman. First her husband had been taken from her, and now her child.

"Why is the FBI investigating my daughter's case?" Shannon asked.

John leaned forward, having already anticipated the question. "Our help was requested by the local PD," he replied. "We just do what we're told." He paused for a moment as the woman nodded a silent understanding. Her eyes were very sad—reflective of immense pain and bereavement. Remembering Chas's advice, he waited as she looked away and collected herself.

In the meantime, he let his gaze wander around the tastefully decorated home. It was very typical—nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a China cabinet filled with angel figurines, and framed photographs hanging on the walls. His eyes fell on one particular picture sitting on the end table by Shannon's armchair. It appeared to show the Woodward family in happier times—Shannon and her husband were sitting in lawn chairs by a lake, and Kara was playing in the sand in front of them. She had a bright, contagious smile.

"Ms. Woodward," John started, after a short period of silence. "Did you notice anything strange in the days before Kara's disappearance?"

Shannon looked at him and furrowed her brows. "Strange how?"

"Or just out of the ordinary," Zed chimed in. "It could be anything. The smallest details can be very helpful."

Shannon was quiet as she recalled the days leading up to the incident. There really hadn't been anything unusual—not in their own lives at least. The evening prior to the incident had been an ordinary Thursday night. Kara was sitting at the table doing her homework, and Shannon had sat across from her, reading through the terms of a custody agreement. The TV in the kitchen had been turned to the evening news, and as she thought back to that exact moment, Shannon suddenly recalled a headline that had caught her attention.

"The evening before Kara was...taken," Shannon started, her voice shaking ever so slightly, "there was a fire up at Clingmans Dome. Kara and her father used to love to go hiking up there."

John and Zed exchanged a look.

Shannon took a deep breath before continuing. "After her father went to jail, I offered to take her on a weekend hiking trip. But she said she didn't want to go up there anymore because it scared her." Her voice shook on the last few syllables. She was trying very hard to maintain her composure now.

"Did she say why it scared her?" Zed asked gently.

Shannon shook her head. "No, she never told me. She just said she didn't like the woods anymore."

"Did she mention any nightmares she'd been having?" John asked.

Shannon thought a moment, and then shook her head again. "She'd been having trouble sleeping at night—but no, she never mentioned that."

John nodded and stood up from the couch. "We appreciate your time, Ms. Woodward. Before we go, do you mind if we have a quick look at Kara's room?"

"The detectives already did that," Shannon replied. She paused and then added, "Go ahead, if you want. The stairs are just around that corner. Her room is the second door on the left."

John nodded and exited the living room in the indicated direction. Zed stood up too and attempted to give Shannon a comforting smile. "We are going to do everything we can to bring Kara home," she promised.

Shannon smiled back, but her eyes gave away her true feelings of hopelessness. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Zed found her way up the stairs and into Kara's room, where John was examining the broken window on the far wall. A plastic tarp now hung over the empty frame—fixing the window was probably one of the last things on Shannon's mind. As Zed looked around the room she had seen in her vision, she suddenly felt very sad. Kara's bedroom should have been the safest place in the world for her, and yet the demon had so easily broken in and made off with her in a matter of seconds.

She walked over to Kara's bed, which was made up very neatly despite the horrific event only a few nights prior. A stuffed unicorn sat next to one of the pillows, and Zed picked it up and looked it over. She played with the pink mane, trying hard to focus on Kara's thoughts and emotions. But the stuffed unicorn was just that—a stuffed animal, with no psychic energy. Zed sighed and set the toy back onto the bed.

"Anything?" John asked, turning to observe her.

She shook her head. "You?"

John shrugged. "Just as I'd expected. Some traces of sulfur here and there. Not much else." He began strolling around Kara's room, looking at her assortment of stuffed animals, books, and even a shelf of soccer trophies. When he came to the dresser, he paused and bent forward. "Ah!" he exclaimed.

"What is it?" Zed asked.

"Try this, love." He picked up a framed picture from the dresser and handed it to Zed. She took it from him, and looked down at the smiling faces of Kara and a man she did not recognize. "Is that her father?" she asked.

"Must be," John replied. "Any premonitions about him?"

Zed shrugged. "I don't think—"

And it was then that the vision hit her. It came on so suddenly that Zed gasped in surprise and dropped the photograph. It was nighttime, and she was looking down a long stretch of highway. There were no cars in sight—just an empty road beneath the stars.

"What do you see?" She heard John ask.

"J-just a road," she stammered. "Like a highway. And it's dark out."

Zed took a tentative step forward, but suddenly the vision changed. The empty road seemed to be swallowed by the night sky, and she was left staring into a dark abyss, except for a small, flickering orange light in the distance. "I think I see...a candle," she said, squinting just enough to observe the tiny, nearly imperceptible movement of the flame.

"A candle?" John asked. "Wait, you see fire?" He paused for a moment, then said sternly, "Zed, snap out of it. You need to come back here to me, now." His voice was urgent. He grabbed her shoulders, but Zed's gaze was still fixed in the distance.

"I...can't," she said, taking a step forward. The little flame was almost hypnotic as it danced alone in the endless darkness.

"Zed!"

Without warning, the tiny flame burst into an inferno, sparks showering her and singeing bare skin. Zed yelped in pain and jumped back. Some of the sparks fell on the floor around her, and they instantly erupted into massive flames. And as Zed looked around desperately, she saw the flames were _everywhere_—she was trapped. She peered over the top of the blazing fire, looking for any escape route. The blackness had been replaced by walls—she was in a building of some sort. She could hear John calling her name, but she couldn't tell where his voice was coming from. The fire burned hotter, and it was closing in on her. She began to cough violently as thick smoke filled the room. Her vision began to go black as the noxious fumes threatened to suffocate her.

Suddenly she was doused in ice-cold water. The shock jerked her away from the blazing inferno, and then she was in Kara's room again. The fire had completely vanished. Panting and dripping wet, she turned to see John standing next to her, holding an upturned bucket over her head. "Sorry, love."

Zed shook her head. "No, thank you." Dazed, she took a step backwards and found the edge of Kara's bed. She sat down and winced as she felt the pain from where the sparks had burnt her. "I couldn't escape it, John. I've never been trapped in a vision like that before."

John set the bucket down and took a seat next to her. He noticed the numerous burn marks all along her arms. "Some demons have the power to do that," he said. "They trap you in your own mind, and kill you that way."

Zed shuddered. She wasn't even safe inside her own mind? She moaned and hugged her arms to her body. John's ingenious idea of dumping water on her had probably saved her life, but now she was freezing. She tried to keep from shivering, but the air conditioning in the house and her soaking wet clothes combined to make the bedroom feel like the polar ice caps. The exorcist must have noticed this, because Zed suddenly felt the weight of his trench coat over her shoulders.

"Come on," he said, standing and gently pulling Zed up by the elbow. "I think we've seen enough here for one day. Plus we need to bandage up those burns."

Zed nodded and started to follow him to the door, but then she stopped. "Wait a minute. Where on Earth did you get a bucket of water from?"

John shrugged and continued out into the upstairs hallway as Zed followed. "I found a bucket in the bathroom there. Strangely enough there was a sink in the bathroom, too." He stopped and turned to look at her. His expression was very serious.

Zed was still perplexed a moment, and then she felt a smile tugging at her lips. She laughed. "You never stop, John," she said shaking her head.

"Stop what?"

"Being you."

He smirked as he led the way down the stairs. "Don't know how to be anyone else, love."


	6. Chapter 6

_ Author's Note: ...And the plot thickens! It's getting easier to crank out these chapters now that I'm getting to the meat of the story. As always, I love your reviews and they greatly encourage me to keep this going! Thank you!_

"Did you go swimming?" Chas asked as Zed and John climbed back into the taxi.

"Not quite," John replied as he dug into his trouser pockets to locate his pack of cigarettes. When he remembered they were in his coat pocket, which Zed was still wearing, he gave up. "Zed had a vision."

Chas glanced up in the rear view to look at Zed. "Of what?" he asked. "Niagara Falls?"

Despite John's coat and the fact that she was hugging her body for warmth, Zed was still freezing. She shivered and tried unsuccessfully to keep her voice from shaking. "A f-fire," she replied.

John saw her shivering still, and he reached over and turned the heat on in the cab. "A bad one at that," he said. "A fire that _trapped_ her, Chas. I had to dump water on her just to break her out of the vision."

"So the demon knows we're here," Chas said, more as a statement than a question. He backed the cab out of the driveway and headed down the residential street.

John's lips set into a straight line. "Most likely."

Chas glanced up at Zed. He could tell this mission was getting dangerous, especially for her. "Did you at least find anything out about Kara?" He asked John.

The exorcist shrugged. "Nothing, except that she's a normal girl with a normal life and a normal mother."

"Damn," Chas muttered. He had really been hoping the interview would have turned something up. The three of them knew that time was running out for the poor girl, and a dead end was the last thing they needed right now.

In the back seat, Zed had finally begun to warm up. Knowing they needed a lead of some sort, she thought back to her vision. The empty street she had seen must have held some significance, but she didn't recall any landmarks that could tell her where the street was. It had appeared as a random mountain road in the middle of nowhere. But the second part of her vision—the part that had nearly killed her—did offer a clue. She thought back to the room she had been in when the fire had encircled her. There had been a plaque on the wall with a very specific insignia on it—an eagle. She couldn't say for certain if an actual fire was going to take place there, but it was their best chance at this point. "The ranger's station," she spoke up.

John twisted in the passenger seat to look back at her. "What about it?"

"The room I was in when I saw the fire. It was at the ranger's station," she replied.

Chas looked over at John. "It's worth a shot."

John nodded. "The visions never lie."

Chas steered the cab back down a main street and onto the winding mountain road that eventually led up to Clingmans Dome. He followed the wooden signs until he found the small, log cabin-style building, with a sign in the front that read 'Clingmans Dome Ranger Station, elevation 6200 feet.'

When Zed saw that the small building was still standing, she felt a slight sense of relief. At least she had had a vision before the incident occurred this time—meaning lives could potentially be saved.

Chas parked the cab in the gravel lot, and the three of them got out and entered through the front door of the station. A bell jingled to signal their arrival. Zed recognized the entryway immediately—this was where she had seen the fire in her vision. She began to stroll around the small room, looking for anything that may potentially start a fire.

There was a young blonde woman sitting behind a tall, wooden counter, typing away on a computer hidden behind the counter top. She looked very focused on her work, but when she heard the bell and saw the three newcomers, she looked up and smiled brightly.

"Hello, there. How are you folks doing today?" she asked as John approached the desk.

The exorcist didn't reply immediately, but looked around the small front room of the station. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, and the atmosphere of the place felt light and calm. He leaned against the tall counter and looked down at the woman sitting in the office chair. He noticed the gold nameplate on her uniform, which read 'Warden Lori Molter.'

"We're fantastic," John said. His eyes traveled to the assortment of papers strewn around Lori's workstation. "Is your sergeant here today?"

Lori shook her head. "No, he's out of the office right now."

"Ah." John tapped the top of the counter with his hand and started to back away. "We'll come back later then."

"But if you want—" Lori started, before he could reach the door. "I can take a message for him." She stood up and leaned on her side of the counter, smiling over at him.

John recognized a familiar glint in her eyes, and he smirked at her flirtatious expression. Of course, John Constantine didn't say no to women. He back-traced his step to the counter. "Actually," he said, taking advantage of the situation, "maybe _you_ can help me out."

Chas took notice and rolled his eyes. Leave it to John to flirt with the potential witnesses. Zed came up to the counter then, having not found anything to suggest the station was about to catch on fire. She could tell immediately that John's focus on the task at hand was straying as he eyed the pretty blonde.

"Ahem—" She glared at John. He glanced at her, and his smile faded away.

"Right," he started, turning back to Lori. "We were wondering if there's been any strange activity here recently."

The young game warden looked thoughtful for a moment. "Now just what do you mean by strange?"

"Anything that comes to mind, love." John replied.

Lori contemplated for a moment. "Nothing besides those forest fires, which are still a mystery. I assume you've heard about those?"

"Yeah, we heard a little bit," said Chas.

Zed's expression grew concerned. "So you still don't know what started the fires?" she asked.

Lori shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Although—" she paused and bit her lip. "Ah, never mind."

"What?"

"You'd laugh at me."

"Try me," John challenged, leaning in closer over the counter top.

Lori looked down at her computer screen. "Well... I think it was demons," she said quietly.

John looked startled for a moment, and glanced at Zed. Her reaction was the same—of course they knew the fires were linked with a demon. But they hadn't expected that other people knew it, too.

Lori glanced up and saw their expressions. "Don't laugh at me!" She exclaimed.

"I'm not laughing," John replied. "What makes you think the fires have something to do with demons?"

Lori paused and stared at John. "You haven't heard the local legend?"

"No, I haven't." The exorcist was significantly intrigued at this point. Chas and Zed exchanged a nervous look.

"Well..." Lori hesitated and took a deep breath. "I've always heard stories about strange occurrences up at the higher peaks. Like, hikers will go missing, apparitions have been spotted, and now these mysterious fires. Local legend here is that Clingmans Dome is the place where demons hide."

"Interesting," John said. He threw a look in Chas's direction.

The young game warden sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "You guys probably think I'm crazy."

"Not at all," said Chas.

Lori attempted a smile. "Thanks...even if you're just saying that."

John smiled back. "Don't worry, love you're not crazy." He leaned in a little closer. "We actually were thinking the same thing. In fact—" he reached down into the leather bag sitting at his feet and rummaged around, clearly looking for something. After a moment without finding it, he gave up and turned to Chas. "Did you put that spell book back in my bag, mate?"

"It's on the end table in the cabin."

John groaned. "Lovely, Chas. I need that."

"Don't you have all those spells memorized?"

"Not this one. Did you at least find the spell I asked you to look for?"

Chas nodded. "Yep. It's in the book, on the end table. Page 483."

The exorcist sighed. "Fantastic."

"Spells?" Lori looked completely perplexed as she glanced back and forth between Chas and John. "Who are you people?"

"It's a long story, love. Some other time." He looked back at Chas and put his hands on his hips. "Well I don't know what the bloody hell we're going to do now."

"You two are ridiculous," said Zed, shaking her head. She pushed off the counter and headed for the doorway. "I'll go get the book."

Before John or Chas could protest, she was out the door and walking across the gravel lot. She thought about just taking the cab, but opted instead to walk the two or so miles back to the cabin. A walk would be good for her, she figured. It was nice to to be able to clear her head—plus, the weather was beautiful today. She started up the mountain trail that ran parallel to the road. By now, her clothes were dry and the breeze felt good on her skin. She smiled when she heard the wild sounds of the forest—birds singing, a fox barking, the leaves rustling in the wind.

But despite the relaxing sounds of the forest, Zed couldn't ignore the real reason she'd decided to leave the station so abruptly. She had felt something when she saw the game warden flirting so openly with John. Something—she hesitantly admitted to herself—that felt like jealousy. Of course, she was an expert at hiding it, but was never quite able to completely suppress the hurt and the anger that rose inside her chest whenever she witnessed girls throwing themselves at John. And of course, he never refused such an invitation.

Zed pushed the thoughts from her head and laughed out loud. What was she thinking? She continued up the mountain trail, deeper into the pine forest.

Back at the ranger station, John made a move to follow Zed out the door. But Chas put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Leave her be, John."

Lori looked concerned. "Was it something I said?"

"No, no." John assured her. He walk slowly back to the desk. "It's just been a rough day for all of us."

The game warden nodded and sat down in her chair. "You two should go catch up with your friend," she said. "I actually have a lot of work to finish up here."

"Just one more thing," John said.

Lori looked up from her computer screen. "Yes?"

"Do you all keep tabs on abduction cases?" He asked.

The blonde woman thought for a moment. "Depends if the abduction occurred near Clingmans Dome. The park is our jurisdiction."

"Kara Woodward. Heard of her?"

"Ah," Lori nodded. "Yes. So tragic. I feel for the poor girl's parents."

"Do you have any leads?" Chas asked.

Lori shook her head sadly. "No, I'm sorry. Even if I did, I'm not allowed to disclose that information."

"Right," John said. He happened to glance up at the clock on the wall behind the desk. They had been at the station for a significant amount of time, and no fire. Perhaps they had misinterpreted Zed's vision. He dug into his coat pocket and was about to present Lori with his FBI persona, when she spoke again.

"I know what it's like to lose a child," she said quietly. She looked up from her computer screen. "My three-year-old son was taken from me as well. It's something no parent should ever have to experience."

"Yeah," Chas agreed. He could vouch for that. He paused for a moment and glanced at John. "Your son...was he taken from his bedroom by chance?"

Lori smiled sadly and looked down at her desk. "No, he was killed in a car accident. It was quick and painless but...it's terrifying how your life can change in a fraction of a second, you know?" When she looked up at John, there were tears in her eyes.

John sighed. "I'm sorry, love."

They talked for some time—Lori shared memories of her son, and Chas told stories about Geraldine. John listened quietly, looking around from time to time to see if there was any sign of a fire in the small building. He felt as if he had scrutinized every corner of the room—but there was nothing. He glanced up at the clock, and noted that Zed had been gone for quite a while now. He contemplated leaving Chas and Lori to their conversation and looking for Zed himself.

A buzz of static brought the reminiscent conversation to a sudden halt. A voice came in over Lori's radio.

_We have reports of a fire in cabin...looks like 21-B. All units report immediately. Again, all units report to cabin 21-Bravo._

John froze. He stared in horror at the small radio on Lori's desk.

_Zed._

He was out the door in a flash, Chas hot on his heels. Lori jumped up from her desk, grabbed her keys and ran up behind them. "That's not your cabin is it?" She asked worriedly. She waited a moment and didn't get a response. "You two can't go up there. You need to stay here."

They were at the cab now and as John tried to open his door, Lori's hand pushed it closed again. "Stay here," she demanded, giving him a stern look.

John glared at her. "Like hell," he spat. He threw the door open before Lori could object again. She looked over at Chas.

"Sorry," the taller man mouthed silently before climbing into the driver's seat. He started the cab and sped up the mountain road, leaving the young game warden in a cloud of dust. She reached up and pressed the button on the radio strapped to her shoulder, turning her head to speak into it.

"Greg, I've got a party headed to your 20 on the 904." She said, and then turned and rushed to her own cruiser. The dust from the cab had barely settled before she took off in the same direction, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

John felt his stomach drop as Chas turned the corner and their cabin came into view—or what was left of it, at least. The ceiling had caved in, and the entire structure was burnt black—it looked as if it were barely standing. The firefighters on the scene had lessened the blaze, so that only a few flames on the inside were still burning. But the fire had been quick and fierce. John couldn't see inside the cabin; it was still engulfed in thick gray smoke.

Chas had barely brought the cab to a halt before John threw open the door and ran towards the cabin. But he didn't get very far. A game warden stepped out in front of him, holding out a hand to block his path.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to stand back, please," the officer ordered. His voice was so calm and collected—it infuriated John.

"She's in there!" the exorcist shouted, trying to move past the warden. But the officer grabbed his shoulders firmly and held him back. Chas ran up beside John, staring in disbelief at the charred skeleton of the cabin.

"Our friend is in there," Chas explained, trying to keep his voice calm.

"We will go in when it's safe," the warden replied.

"When it's safe?" John fumed. "Do you think it's safe that there's someone in there right now?!" He tried, to no avail, to push past the officer again.

There was a loud crack and a thud as a wall from the cabin caved in, kicking up a cloud of ash and smoke. John grimaced when he heard the noise. His eyes were burning and he blinked furiously. He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "_Damn_." He looked around at the woods for any sign of Zed—maybe she had gotten out in time. But the wind whispered through the trees with a hushed tone. There was no sign of her.

Lori Molter arrived at the scene then, and couldn't hide her shock when she saw the remains of cabin 21-B. She walked over to Chas and John. "Did you find her?" she asked nervously. Chas shook his head. John didn't even look at her.

The blonde woman saw the other game warden nearby. "Sergeant Gehring," she said, walking over to the tall man who had restrained John. "Did you happen to find a young woman? Their friend was headed in this direction before the call came in."

Gehring shook his head. "We didn't find anyone on the scene, but haven't looked inside yet. I wasn't going to send anyone into that blaze."

John overheard the conversation and clenched his fists in anger. He turned to the two officers. "Then what the bloody hell is your job?" he seethed.

"I'm so sorry..." Lori started, her voice trailing off. Gehring didn't say anything. Instead, the sergeant walked over to another game warden standing nearby.

"Mitchell, let FD know we may have a possible body inside," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. He looked over at Lori. "Molter, could you send out a notice to evacuate?"

John could barely handle it. Chas watched helplessly as the exorcist fell to his knees in the dirt, swearing under his breath. _Why had he let her go alone? And for a stupid book? _He cursed again, shaking his head in disbelief.

He never should have let her join him. He should have told her to leave the minute she showed up at his hotel room that day they had run into each other on the street of the small mining community. But she should have left, too. _No one_ survived being his friend—he'd tried to tell her that. But God, Zed was persistent. She didn't take no for an answer. And it may very well have just gotten her killed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Once again, thank you for all the reviews, everyone! I didn't leave you with much of a cliffhanger this time, but don't worry there's much more to come! Enjoy!_

Every morning John Constantine woke up, and for the first five minutes of the day, he imagined that everyone he cared about was dead. That way, when it inevitably happened, it would 'lessen the blow.' But he failed to admit to himself that deep down, he always knew when his friends were alive. John Constantine could probably fool any sodding bastard on the planet, but he couldn't fool himself. And nothing could have prepared him for this.

He paced back and forth in front of the smoldering remains of the cabin. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and he was staring down at the dirt, cursing under his breath. He had barely been able to live with himself after Astra, but Zed?

Chas watched him, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell John that Zed was probably fine—she knew how to hold her own, after all. But Chas couldn't say that for sure. If Zed wasn't here, then where else would she be? It didn't look good.

The firefighters were combing through the rubble now, pushing beams out of the way and moving huge sections of the roof. Sergeant Gehring and the other game warden were observing. John overheard the senior officer say something about 'being tired of all the bodies piling up.'

"Screw this," John muttered. He turned around and took off past Chas, heading in the direction of the woods.

"John!" Chas called. But the exorcist kept walking.

Lori was standing there by the edge of the woods, talking on her cell. "Yes, yes—effective immediately," he heard her say. She looked up at John as he passed by. "Hold on one second—Hey did they find your friend?" She asked, her voice showing a level of concern.

But John ignored her and kept walking. Lori watched him go into the woods, unsure what to think. She let out a sigh and continued her phone call as John disappeared into the brush.

An old, tall spruce tree rose up from the layer of brown pine needles on the forest floor. John wandered over to it and leaned back against the ancient bark. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his pack of Silk Cut and plucked a cigarette from the small box. With his other hand, he fumbled around in his pocket for his light.

_"You should really quit."_

He could hear Zed's lecture in his head. The exorcist paused a moment and fiddled with the cigarette between his index and middle finger.

_"Yeah, yeah. Says you and everyone else."_

He slid the cigarette back into the box, tucked the flap closed and stuck the pack into his coat pocket. With a heavy sigh, he sank down the trunk of the spruce and came to rest on the bed of pine needles. He bent his head forward and closed his eyes. Perhaps this was his punishment for Newcastle. People made mistakes, yes, but his mistakes seemed to cost the innocent their lives. How long could he go on like this, risking his friends' lives? Hell, the only reason Chas was still around was the thirty-something souls he had left. Had it not been for that, his best mate would have been six feet under a long time ago. Wasn't the point of fighting the rising darkness to save lives? Or was he just trying to save his own?

The sound of footsteps on dry leaves brought John out of his sullen reverie. He glanced up to see a khaki uniform coming towards him through the twigs and branches.

"Sir?" A voice called. It was Lori.

John could hear her muttering and cursing under her breath as she picked her way through the dense brush. Soon she was standing in front of John, sporting a few pine needles in her hair.

"Sir?" She repeated.

John looked up slowly. He really hadn't wanted any company. But had circumstances been different, he would have laughed. He'd never actually introduced himself. Lori didn't know his name.

"What do you want?" John asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lori hesitated. "I—I really hope your friend is okay. I feel like this is all my fault."

Her fault? Yeah, right. She had no idea.

"But, we're going to find her," the game warden continued. "I promise. I just hope..." Her voice trailed off. She thought better of finishing her last sentence. _I just hope she's alive._

"It's not your fault," John muttered."You should get back to your job over there." Her presence was beginning to irk him.

Lori sighed and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small card and handed it to John. The exorcist glanced at it, but didn't take it.

"What's that?"

"My contact information. In case you need anything." She attempted a smile. "We're park rangers, after all. It's our job to look out for everyone."

John huffed. "Tell that to your sergeant back there." He reluctantly took the card and stashed it in his pocket. Really, he just wanted her to leave. But she waited there a moment, as if expecting him to say something more.

There was a sudden snap of branches and rustling of leaves as someone else came treading through the woods. "John!"

The exorcist shook his head and let out a sigh. It was Chas. So much for being left alone. It took the larger man some time to make his way through the forest, and John contemplated getting up and going off deeper into the trees. The pity party gathering around him was making him increasingly uncomfortable. With a groan, John pushed off the forest floor just as Chas emerged into the small clearing around the old spruce.

"John—" he panted.

"No offense, mate," John said, and he glanced at Lori as well. "But I'd really like to be alone right now, if you two don't mind."

"Well John, I—"

"Chas, please." He couldn't take this now. He'd been putting up a good front for a while, but Zed still hadn't shown up. It wasn't like her, and as the minutes ticked by, he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. And the last thing he wanted now was for Chas to see him break down. He turned and started to head down a ravine that lead deeper into the mountain forest.

"Alright, fine." Chas called after him. "If you insist. Should I just tell Zed you're acting like a child again?"

The exorcist halted mid-stride and turned to look at his friend. "What?"

Chas laughed. "She's fine, John. Gave us a good scare, but we found her."

Lori beamed. "Oh, thank goodness!"

John could feel every muscle and nerve in his body relax as a wave of relief hit him. If demons and chain smoking didn't kill him, he would surely be done in by Zed giving him a heart attack.

The three of them made their way back through the brush and saplings. John made it to the clearing first, and he paused to look around for a moment. More firefighters had arrived on the scene to inspect the charred cabin, and there was a pair of police cars as well. He had to look around the hubbub of emergency personnel before he finally spotted the familiar dark curls.

She was talking to a police officer, nodding as the officer asked questions and scribbled on a small notepad. As soon as he spotted her, John shouldered his way through the throng towards her. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

"John!" she exclaimed.

He approached her and she quickly attempted to explain herself, knowing he would be unhappy. "John, I'm so sorry. I was walking back and—"

But the exorcist wasn't listening. For that moment, he let down his arrogance as he walked up to Zed and, without hesitation, locked her into a tight embrace. The hug caught her off guard and a brief expression of shock crossed her face before she smiled. "I'm okay," she assured him over his shoulder.

John didn't say anything, but held her a moment longer. When he finally let her go, he looked her up and down. The burns from the vision she'd had earlier were still there, but other than that, she was unscathed. He decided he would yell at her later—right now, he was just completely relieved to see her standing there, unharmed. She was even holding the spell book.

Chas and Lori came up then, and the game warden gave Zed a nod and a smile. "Glad to see you're okay, ma'am." She looked over and saw Gehring gesturing to her. "If you'll excuse me," she said, before jogging off towards her sergeant.

The three of them stood and watched her go, and then Chas turned to Zed. "You certainly gave us a good scare," he said. John nodded in silent agreement, but the relief was still evident on the exorcist's face. "Where were you?" Chas asked.

Zed glanced over her shoulder before replying. "I was on my way back to the station and I—" She rubbed her temple and winced. "I had a vision."

"What did you see?" John asked.

"I saw..." She paused and thought for a moment. "Well that's just it. I didn't see anything. It was dark and I was really hungry for some reason."

John and Chas exchanged a glance. "I guess we did skip lunch today," Chas noted.

Zed shook her head. "No I mean, I'm not hungry. But I was hungry in the vision. Do you think—?"

"The girl," John said, finishing her thought.

Zed nodded. "I think Kara is alive and being held somewhere."

"And you couldn't tell where she was being held?" Chas questioned.

Zed shook her head sadly. She had felt that she was right there, feeling all of the girl's emotions—her pain, hunger, and especially her fear. But it had been so dark; there was no way of telling where Kara was being held. Zed looked down at the ground as she strained to remember the tiny details, but stopped when John placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I think that's enough visions for one day, love."

Zed eyed him with uncertainty. "But she's in trouble, John. We have to—"

He held up a hand and cut her off. "No, you need to rest. Take a break for once."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You never do."

"That's another matter."

"Is it?"

"Guys, c'mon." Chas put his hands up to silence them both. "We _all_ need some rest."

John nodded towards the smoldering heap of wood that was once their cabin. "And where do you suggest we do that, mate?"

Chas shrugged. "Do either of you know how to pitch a tent?"

Exhaustion and stress had made them all a little uneasy, but they came to the consensus that it was time to call it a night, even if the sun hadn't begun to set. John, Chas, and Zed spoke with a few more officers to explain that no, there had not been any electrical issues in the cabin and no, the fireplace was not left burning throughout the day. When one officer asked if any cigarettes had been left burning in the cabin, John had to think about it a moment before dismissing the possibility. Of course, they all knew the fire had no natural explanation, and the investigation was merely a waste of time. But they played along, and were about ready to leave when Sergeant Gehring approached them.

"On behalf of the park, we do apologize for this," the officer said. He paused for a moment before adding, "We're glad you're all safe."

John rolled his eyes. He didn't care much for this Greg Gehring fellow, on account of the fact that he had dismissed the possibility of Zed's death as an inconvenience. "How kind of you," the exorcist replied as he glowered at the officer.

Gehring ignored John's sarcastic tone. "We'll be refunding your payment and—" The warden reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pen and notepad. He scribbled something on the paper, tore it off and handed it to Chas. "Take a left on the main drag into town and you'll find this hotel. I'm good friends with the manager there. Tell him I sent you and the room is on us."

Chas nodded and took the paper. "Appreciate it."

They found the hotel and, at the front desk, John asked for a single room. Zed protested at first, having wanted her own, but then decided he was probably just trying to keep an eye on her. At least he had gotten two beds this time.

Once settled into the room, Chas plopped onto the bed and passed out in a matter of minutes. John insisted on taking shifts again, even if they weren't up by Clingmans Dome anymore. Now, he sat in an armchair in front of the flat screen TV, flipping through the channels with a glazed look in his eyes. He held a large bottle of some alcoholic beverage, having opted to skip the glass altogether.

Zed was sitting up in bed sketching. Although she was tired, she found herself unable to sleep—especially now that John seemed intent on getting drunk. She eyed him with concern as he took a swig from the bottle. "How do expect to accomplish anything tomorrow if you're hungover?" She asked suddenly.

John rolled his eyes in her direction and took another gulp. "Don't get hangovers anymore, love."

"Right." She shook her head and continued sketching. The image was turning out to be a picture of the mountaintop again, but this time she had drawn it after the fire. The trees were all dead and the sky was dark. The scene held an eerie, gray stillness. With a sigh, she closed her notepad and tossed it onto the floor next to her satchel. Finishing the sketch wasn't her top priority right now, so she laid her head back on the pillow and stared at the white plastered ceiling. After some time, she turned her head to look at John, who had just polished off the bottle of amber beverage.

"There's something I wish you would realize," she said.

He glanced at her, then looked back at the television. "Enlighten me."

"The people around you don't die because of you. They die because of your job."

The exorcist reached for another bottle of whiskey sitting on an end table and popped it open. He took a large gulp and let out a sigh, but didn't say anything. He was pretending to look interested in some sort of Spanish soap opera.

"So stop blaming yourself, John." She looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was set in a dull trance. After waiting a moment for him to say something, she gave up and rolled over onto her side. For the second night in a row, she laid wide awake despite her exhaustion. It was only when she heard John stumble over to the bed and wake Chas up for his night watch shift that she finally relaxed and fell asleep.

Kara groaned and clutched her stomach. She had never felt hunger like this before—and it was excruciating. She had no sense of time in that small, dark room. Occasionally, she heard noises above her. Sometimes there were voices or footsteps, and earlier that day she had even heard music. She felt as if she was locked beneath someone's house. Of course, she had tried calling for help multiple times, but no one ever responded. She felt so desperately alone, and even though she was only seven, she began to contemplate her own mortality. Hunger and thirst had taken over her, and she felt that if she even tried to stand, she would crumple into a heap on the cold, hard floor.

Then, for the first time in what seemed like years, Kara heard footsteps coming towards her. Not muffled like they had been previously, but loud and close by. She perked up immediately. "Help!" she managed to croak out. Her voice trembled, but she didn't give up. "Someone help me!"

There was a clang of metal and a grating noise as a bright slit appeared in the wall next to her. She gasped as she saw light for the first time in several days. It blinded her, and she couldn't see out passed the tiny opening. She saw the shadows of movement beyond the narrow slit, and then heard the soft thump of something falling onto the floor next to her. Before she even knew what was happening, the slit disappeared with a metallic clank and she was left alone in the darkness again. Fumbling around in the dark, Kara felt her way along the cold floor until her hands found a thin, plastic bag with something soft inside. Her hands shook as she played around with the plastic, until finally, she retrieved what was inside—a sandwich. She began to sob as she gobbled down the scanty meal. It eased the pang in her stomach, but not her fear. She listened and cried quietly as she heard footsteps fading away, and she was once again left alone in the endless darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

_Looks like we'll find out no later than May 11th if we get our season 2! If we don't, I say we boycott NBC! Anyway, enjoy chapter 8! Thank you again for the kind reviews, I really appreciate it!_

The sun had barely begun to peak over the tops of the Great Smoky Mountains when John awoke. With a groan, he rolled over to look at the glaring red numbers of the digital clock on his nightstand—5:14 a.m. His brain was pounding against the inside of his skill and he sat up, rubbing his temple. Drinking last night probably hadn't been the best decision on his part, but it was the only way he knew to deal with yesterday's reality check.

He looked over at Zed, tucked underneath the covers in the bed by the window. Her back was turned to him, but he could tell by her slow, deep breathing that she was fast asleep. Chas was in the armchair by the television—his head hung forward and he was snoring softly. John rolled his eyes. So much for the night vigil.

He got out of bed and wandered over to the mini fridge. He opened the small door and peered inside, but shoved it closed in frustration when he realized he had drank all the whiskey. John sighed and ran a hand through his messed hair, then looked back at Zed. Now that he was relatively sober, he recalled what she had told him last night—something about the deaths of others not being his fault. Of course, he didn't believe that, but it was nice to know that at least _she _didn't blame him for all of his mistakes.

Unable to go back to sleep, John went through his leather bag and found the spell book that Zed had retrieved before the cabin fire. He plopped the leather-bound book onto a small table, sat down, and began thumbing through the yellowed pages. On page 483, he found the spell he had been searching for, and studied it a moment. It was uncertain whether the spell would work or not—he'd never tried it. Plus, it was a long shot with a demon this powerful. John groaned and leaned forward over the table, planting his forehead squarely on the page of the book. Whether it be the hangover or lack of sleep, this case was making his head hurt. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, and then slowly straightened up. There was still a lead he had yet to follow up on. Jumping up from the table, John strode over to his coat tossed carelessly over the foot board of his bed. He rummaged around in the pockets until he found the small white card with Lori Molter's contact information. A quick glance at the clock showed the time 5:25—the game warden would surely be awake and starting her day by now.

Quietly, John got dressed, double checked that Chas and Zed were still fast asleep, and then slipped out of the room. The halls were still and quiet, and he walked silent as a cat passed the doors of slumbering patrons until he came to the elevators. The loud 'ding' of the door opening made him cringe, and he glanced back down the hall to make sure no one had woken up. Satisfied that his escape was successful, he made his way down to the main lobby and out into the cool twilight morning.

Lori's home was relatively easy to find. She only lived a few miles away from the entrance to the access road that lead up to Clingmans Dome. Her house was a small, one-level structure nestled among a group of ancient pine trees. John parked his truck in the driveway, grabbed his leather bag and stepped up to the front door. He held up his fist to knock, but the door swung open before he even had the chance.

"Er—hello, love." John greeted.

Lori stood there, dressed in her uniform, her duty belt slung over her shoulder. She looked confused at first, but smiled when she recognized him. "Hi there! Um—"

"John," He interjected. "John Constantine."

"Ah," she nodded and opened the door wider to invite him in. "What brings you here so early, John? I was just stepping out to leave for work."

The exorcist followed her into the small, cozy home and looked around. There were various photos hanging on the wall, most of which were scenic photos of the park. Various wildlife figurines were scattered among the mantles and end tables. There was even a taxidermy fox on a table in the corner. "I hope you don't mind me taking just a few minutes of your time," John said, helping himself to a seat on the sofa. "I just had a few more questions for you." He then noticed a picture on the coffee table of Lori and a young boy—presumably the child she had lost to a car accident.

The warden nodded and took a seat next to him. "What did you want to know?"

"You say Clingmans Dome is the place where demons hide, correct?"

She shrugged and looked down at the white carpet. "I—yes, that's what I've heard."

"What else have you heard?" He turned to face her now with an intensity in his gaze. "What kind of demons hide there?"

The warden looked at him with a perplexed expression. "There are different kinds of demons?"

John sighed. He didn't have the time to go through the whole 'everything that goes bump in the night is real' spiel. Lori clearly had some interest in the local legend, but that appeared to be the extent of her knowledge. He shook his head. "Nevermind, love. Just tell me anything else you know about that legend."

Lori thought for a moment. "Well," she started, looking nervously at a clock hanging on the opposite wall. "They say a demon wanders the mountainside, taking the souls of lost hikers."

John nodded. "Makes sense." Demons were always after souls. "What do the fires have to do with it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, I'm sorry. But—" She stopped herself and put a hand over her mouth, as if she had just realized something.

"What is it?" John asked, leaning towards her. Lori looked as if she were in pain as she struggled to come up with answers. She glanced up at him suddenly, a new realization dawning on her.

"Sergeant Gehring," she said.

"What about him?"

"In his office there's these books," She looked at him nervously, and he could hear the fear in her voice. "Books about rituals and spells and God knows what." Her voice was shaking now and she turned away to collect herself. John watched her, and when she looked at him again there was a gleam in her eyes. "You probably think I'm an idiot."

"No, love." He said quietly. "You're right to be afraid." He thought again of Sergeant Gehring, and his nonchalant attitude towards the fires. Could he really have something to do with it? Inspecting the sergeant's office would have to be next on his to-do list.

John watched as Lori swiped away a stray tear. "This whole thing has just been so hard on us at the station," she said. "We're all tiptoeing around Sergeant Gehring. We don't know what he's capable of."

The exorcist nodded. "Don't worry love, that's why I'm here. We'll figure this out."

She smiled. "Thank you, John."

Perhaps it was the concerned look in his eyes, or just the fact that he was only inches from her to begin with—whatever the reason, Lori leaned in suddenly and kissed him. She didn't know why she did it—it just felt _right_. John on the other hand was taken aback slightly, but was quick to recover.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip.

John smirked. "No worries, love." Lori was attractive, sure, but for some reason he wasn't in the mood. Then, before he could say anything else, she was kissing him again. He hesitated briefly, but then found himself caught up in the moment. As he kissed her, he temporarily forgot about the case, the fires, and how he had nearly lost Zed. All that existed in that moment was the movement of Lori's lips against his own, and the scent of her lavender perfume. She grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, and he went along with it. John Constantine wasn't one to say no to a woman.

Back at the hotel, the sun had risen high over the tops of the mountains and was shining brightly through the window. Zed rolled over and sat up, brushing a few stray curls from her face. She blinked groggily and looked around the room. Chas sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. "Morning," she said as she rolled out of bed.

He glanced up. "Morning."

She went to her bag on the floor and dug around for a change of clothes. "Where's John?" she asked.

Chas shrugged without looking up from the paper. "He was gone when I woke up."

"Did you call him?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes it's better to just leave him be."

"Huh." Zed disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

Chas straightened the newspaper and continued reading. There was an article about their cabin fire, which he scanned through quickly. Apparently the fire department was blaming an electrical short as the cause of the blaze. Clingmans Dome was closed indefinitely, at least until the fires could be investigated more thoroughly. There was a short statement from Sergeant Gehring, which read 'The safety of visitors is our first priority, and the park will not reopen until we are 100% satisfied the danger has subsided.' Chas scoffed when he read it, and flipped to the next page.

At that moment, the door swung open and John walked in. He tossed his coat onto the bed, strode over to where Chas sat at the table, and picked up the spell book he had been reading earlier that morning. Chas watched as he flipped through the pages, muttering something unintelligible to himself.

"Where were you?" Chas asked after a moment.

Before John could answer, the door to the bathroom opened and Zed walked out. She saw John, and noticed his disheveled appearance. Something smelled like lavender, too. John glanced up at her, but quickly looked back down and continued scanning the pages of the book.

"Where were you?" Zed asked, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion. His tie was askew and his hair was even more messed up than usual.

"Following up on a lead," he replied, without looking up from the book.

She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. "Did the lead require you to wear perfume?"

"Uh-oh," Chas muttered to himself, slowly standing up from the table. He walked over to the door and looked back at John and Zed. "If you guys need me, I'll be downstairs enjoying the continental breakfast." The door closed behind him.

John hadn't moved—he was still looking at the spell book, his lips moving silently.

Zed shook her head and sat down on her bed. "You're unbelievable," she muttered. "We have a pretty serious case here, and you're out looking to get laid."

The exorcist closed the spell book slowly and set it down on the table. Digging into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and lighter. "It was just a lead," he said as he cocked his head to light the cigarette. He still didn't look at her.

She sighed. "Right. Whatever, John." She pulled out her sketch pad from her satchel and flipped through the half-drawn sketches. For some reason, she wasn't in the mood to finish any of them. She looked up at John, who had taken a seat at the table now and was staring off into space, smoke curling upward from the cigarette between his lips.

After a moment, he finally looked over at Zed. "I talked to Lori Molter. May have found out who summoned the demon we're after."

"And did that require intercourse?" She knew she shouldn't have said it. But his decisions lately angered her, and in that moment, she couldn't help herself.

John's eyes flashed defensively. He turned away and exhaled a puff of smoke.

Zed stood up from the bed and grabbed her jacket. "You're jeopardizing this case, John," she said as she slipped her jacket on and began shoving her notepad and pencils back into her satchel. "You shouldn't be getting involved with the witnesses like that."

"Like how you were snogging Corrigan at that bar?"

Her arm was outstretched to grab a stray pencil, but she froze mid-reach. Did he really just bring that up?

With a huff, John stood up from the table and strode over to the door. He whisked it open and turned around to glare at Zed. "By the way, I didn't sleep with her. Had to bloody restrain her, that one. But I said no." And with that, he slammed the door and was gone.

Zed stared at the closed door, an expression of perplexed disbelief on her face. For a second she contemplated going after him, but there had been such a sour note to his words that she thought better of it. With a sigh, she sat back on the bed. A part of her felt guilty for confronting him so harshly, but then again, his words hadn't been all that kind either. It seemed this whole case had put them all on edge, and tempers were running high.

John walked into the main lobby, where Chas sat at a table, finishing off his breakfast. The exorcist slumped into a chair next to him. Chas raised an eyebrow in his direction, but John ignored the questioning glance. "We need to take another trip to the ranger's station," John said.

Chas eyed him curiously. "What for?"

"Mr. Gehring may be our culprit."

"Sergeant Gehring?" Chas looked confused. "What's his motive?"

"Haven't gotten that far yet, mate."

"Huh." Chas stabbed a sausage link on his plate and polished off his orange juice. "Well, we better get going."

John nodded. "Right." He stood up and dug into his coat pocket for the keys to his truck. "I'll meet you there, mate. Just relax, finish your brekkie there."

Chas shot him a puzzled look. "I'm done now—we can go. Zed should be down any minute."

John looked away and ran a hand through his hair, and Chas recognized the anxious behavior. He suddenly understood why his friend was looking so uneasy. He sighed and stood up from the table. "I'll drive Zed."

The exorcist gave a curt nod. "Thanks, mate," he said, before disappearing out the front doors of the lobby. Chas stood there a moment, shaking his head. John was a piece of work.


	9. Chapter 9

"I've known John a long time," said Chas, as he maneuvered the cab up the winding mountain road. He glanced over at Zed in the passenger seat. "He can be stubborn and downright insensitive sometimes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care."

Zed stared ahead at the dirt road. Her argument with John was still fresh in her mind. A part of her felt guilty, but she also felt better having finally called him out on his reckless actions. "It wouldn't hurt him to show a little more respect," she said.

Chas sighed. "Maybe. But in order for him to do what he does, he has to put up walls. Especially with you."

She glanced in his direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chas shrugged. "Clearly he cares about you, a lot. But he can't let it get in the way of his judgment."

She nodded, but maintained a stern gaze out the window.

After a few more twists and turns up the rugged access road, Chas pulled the cab into the gravel lot of the ranger's station. John was there waiting, leaning against his truck and smoking a cigarette. When he saw them, he pushed off the truck and came around to Chas's side of the cab.

"What's the deal with the sergeant?" Chas asked as he climbed out of the driver's seat. Zed came around to the other side and looked at John, but the exorcist was focused on Chas.

"According to Lori, he's been exhibiting suspicious behavior," John said. He tossed his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out in the gravel. "I thought you two could check out his office."

Zed nodded towards the two cruisers parked by the station. "How are we supposed to do that?"

John glanced at her, but then looked back at Chas. "Distract him. I don't know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his playing card, handing it to Chas. "You'll need this, too. Technically the park is closed to visitors."

Chas nodded and took the card. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go on a little hike up the mountain, see if I can't deal with this demon."

"You're going alone?" Zed asked. The irritation in her voice was mixed with concern.

John's eyes narrowed and he looked at the ground. "I'll be fine."

Zed was going to argue, but she thought better of it. "Just...don't do anything stupid, okay?"

He smirked, and for the first time, really looked at her. "Can't make any promises there, love."

"Be careful, John," said Chas.

John nodded to his friend and made a move towards his truck, but paused in front of Zed. He looked at her, and she saw a hint of sadness in his expression. For a moment, she thought he might say something. The pain and longing in his dark eyes suggested he was holding on to unspoken words. But instead of saying those words, he gave her a quick nod and continued towards his truck, grabbing his leather bag out of the back and heading in the direction of the hiking trail.

Once he had disappeared among the trees, Zed turned to Chas. "Are we really going to let him go alone?"

Chas shrugged. "I don't think we have a choice."

They entered the ranger's station, and Zed wasn't surprised to see Lori sitting at the front desk. She looked up at them and smiled, but then her expression changed to one of concern. "You folks know the park is closed, correct? At least until we investigate those fires further."

"Right," Chas said, walking up to the desk. He presented Lori with the playing card. "That's why we're here, actually."

The game warden looked at the card with a puzzled expression. "U. S. Fish and Wildlife? I didn't realize we'd asked for your help."

Chas cleared his throat. "Er—your sergeant did, actually. Is he here today?"

Lori nodded and motioned towards a narrow hallway leading to the back of the station. "His office is at the very end of the hall."

They were about to head down the hallway, when Lori spoke again. "Where's your other agent—John?"

Zed shot her an icy glare, but the game warden didn't seem to notice.

"Doing some research out in the field," Chas replied quickly, seeing the irritated expression on Zed's face. They walked down the hallway and came to the last door with a gold nameplate reading 'Sergeant Greg Gehring.' Chas knocked. "Mr. Gehring?"

A few seconds later the door opened and Gehring stood there, looking at them with his stern gaze. "Yes?" he asked. Not only was his tone intimidating, but the man was tall—he was eye-level with Chas.

Zed stepped forward. "We wanted to talk to you about the fires."

Gehring eyed them for a moment, then asked, "And who are you, exactly?"

"Federal officers," Chas replied, holding up the playing card.

Once Gehring had scrutinized the ID, he stepped back and motioned for them to enter his small office. "My apologies. Please, come in."

The sergeant's desk was situated next to an open window, where a slight breeze came in and rustled a stack of papers pinned beneath a paper weight. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and on another wall were mounted deer antlers and a framed certificate of some sort. Gehring motioned to the two armchairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

They sat down, and Chas immediately began observing the tiny details of the office. At first glance, nothing was out of the ordinary. No strange symbols, no sulfur smell. On the window sill, there even sat a framed photograph of what appeared to be Gehring with his wife and two daughters.

Zed must have noticed the normalcy of the office as well, because she shot a glance at Chas. He shrugged in response as Gehring took a seat in his chair behind the desk. "These fires have everyone on edge," he said, pulling open one of the drawers in his desk. He reached in and handed a stack of photographs to Chas. "These are some pictures taken of the three forest fires we had—all within a three-day time span."

Chas looked through the photographs as Zed leaned over to see. She recognized all of it—the blackened trees, the dry creek bed, the barren soil. Chas looked up at Gehring and handed the stack of photos to Zed. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

The sergeant shook his head. "I'm as dumbstruck as you are. Sure, we've had minor fires over the years, but those were usually just hikers leaving their campfires lit or someone dropping a cigarette in a pile of dead leaves. Nothing of this magnitude. Plus, we haven't been able to even trace the fires to a single point of ignition."

"Huh." As Chas listened to Sergeant Gehring, he couldn't help but think how honest and professional the warden sounded. He didn't get the feeling that Gehring was lying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zed throw him another glance. She must have gotten the same impression.

"Sergeant Gehring," Zed started. "We heard there were fires in a few buildings on the park grounds. Do you have the police reports from those by chance?"

"Ah, yes." Gehring stood up and headed over to the door. "They're in the file room, give me one minute." The door closed behind him. Chas looked at Zed.

"You're a genius," He said.

They both hopped up and began scouring the office for clues. Chas searched through the books lined up on the shelves. There were books about wildlife management, histories of Clingmans Dome, and identifying the native plant species. Nothing about summoning demons. Zed began rifling through the contents of Gehring's desk, yanking drawers open and digging through piles of papers and office supplies. She, too, came up with nothing. The office was small—there weren't many other places to look. Zed scanned the walls, and even checked behind the framed certificate, but there was nothing.

"I think this may be a dead end, Chas." Zed shook her head and sat back down in her chair. Chas sat down, too, just as Gehring returned holding a small pile of folders.

"This is everything the police sent me about all of the fires," he said, returning to his seat behind the desk. He split the stack of folders and handed each to Zed and Chas. "They haven't come up with very much either. We had three fatalities in the lodge fire, and autopsies confirmed COD was carbon monoxide poisoning consistent with smoke inhalation."

Zed nodded and glanced through the reports and photographs. She saw the charred rubble of the lodge, burnt to a crisp. The blackened remains of furniture were strewn around a seemingly endless stretch of beams, wood panels, and broken glass. Then, Zed saw the black figure. She gasped and her hand flew over her mouth.

"What is it?" Gehring asked.

"N—nothing," she stammered. "It just looks like a horrible fire." The black figure was partially hidden behind a section of wall that was still standing. Anyone else looking at it might have assumed it to be debris of some sort. But Zed recognized the long, claw like fingers and the speck of yellow that might have been one of the demon's eyes. Shaking her head to rid herself of the horrible image, she handed the folder back to Gehring. Chas eyed her with concern.

They continued talking to Gehring for some time, and at no point did Chas or Zed get the impression the sergeant was trying to hide something. He expressed concern for the victims and legitimate confusion as to the source of the fires. Zed's intuition told her that the sergeant wasn't their man.

The trail leading up to Clingmans Dome was steep, and John had to stop several times along the way to lean against a tree and catch his breath. He laughed to himself on one such occasion—his smoking habits coupled with the high altitude probably weren't the best combination. Signs posted intermittently along the trail showed the increasing elevation. At around 6500 feet, he came to the site of one of the forest fires. The lush, green forest gave way suddenly to a gray, barren landscape. He walked along, inspecting the blackened stumps, the dry creek bed, even the corpse of a dead animal. The blackened dirt beneath his boots crunched with every step, and the noise echoed eerily in the emptiness around him. There was definitely an ominous energy about the place—this was no natural fire.

John continued along the trail, which eventually lead back into a patch of green forest. A sign along the trail read 6600 feet—not much further to go. Gradually, the atmosphere changed. At lower elevations, it had been sunny and fair. Now, the air was cool and crisp, and a thick gray fog began to weave its way through the pine trees. John paused when he came to another patch of barren land—the site of a more recent fire. The piles of dead brush and logs were still smoldering, and as John picked his way across the charred earth, he could feel heat rising up from the forest debris. He stopped, cleared an area on the ground with his boot, and set his leather bag down in the gray dust.

Although the appearance of the fire-ravaged wasteland and the sudden drop in temperature were startling, it was the deathly silence that sent a shiver down the exorcist's spine. He didn't scare easily, but the eerie quiet made him uneasy. Determined to shake off the feeling and focus on the task at hand, John shrugged his shoulders and reached into his bag. He pulled out the old spell book and turned to page 483. After taking a moment to study the image next to the spell, John grabbed a blackened stick from a nearby pile of brush and traced a large circle in the ash and dust. He added the intricate geometric touches, and then stepped back to survey his work. If all went according to plan, the demon would be immobilized by the symbol. Now, he just had to summon it.

The exorcist pulled a ceramic bowl from his bag and a pocket knife from his coat pocket. With the knife, he cut a deep slit in the palm of his hand, wincing as the blood dripped into the bowl. He spoke a few words in Sumerian, and pressed a thumb to the wound on his hand. More blood streamed down his palm and into the bowl, forming a dark red pool. He looked up and waited, but was answered only by the silence of the barren mountainside.

He twitched his head in annoyance. "You want more, you bloody sod?" After wrapping his bleeding hand in some cloth, he grabbed his pocket knife again and cut his other hand, cursing as the pain hit him. The blood nearly filled the bowl now. He chanted the Sumerian spell again, then looked around at the blackened landscape.

The wind howled, and the fog grew thicker. John held his bleeding hand, still swearing as it throbbed in pain. "Show yourself, you bastard!" He yelled into the gray stillness.

"John Constantine. I've been waiting for you."

The voice sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he looked up. Through the fog, a dark, hooded figure stepped towards him. The glint of white fangs and flash of yellow eyes told him the spell had worked. The demon now stood in his circle, eyeing him with glassy orbs that seemed to penetrate his very being. As the fog cleared, John could see the pale white skin and the grotesque humanoid features of the entity's countenance.

With a smirk, John stood up from his kneeling position, still clutching his bleeding hand. "Hello there, Abraxas."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: At long last, we get to the action! Now that I'm done with finals, I should be able to get this story finished pretty quick. Enjoy!_

The demon glowered at John with its piercing eyes, a dastardly smirk tugging at its thin, white lips. It eyed the exorcist as if he was a fanciful dinner on a silver platter, waiting for the opportunity to drag his soul to Hell. But John wasn't swayed by the demon's heinous intentions. He already knew every demon was out to get his soul—it was nothing new to him, and he was prepared for it.

"I've certainly read plenty of you, Abraxas." John addressed the demon. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed. Why would such a powerful demon allow itself to be summoned by a mere human?"

Abraxas eyed him with its penetrating orbs, the devilish smirk never leaving its expression. "Choose your words carefully," it warned, taking a step forward. John's nerves unhinged slightly at the realization that the demon could still move despite the devil's trap. Although, he was certain it could not actually escape the circle.

"Where is the girl?" John demanded suddenly, deciding it was best not to waste any time. He preferred not to take chances with a demon this powerful. Abraxas hadn't been completely immobilized by his spell.

The demon cocked its head to one side. "Girl?"

"Kara. The girl you snatched from a bedroom five nights ago."

Abraxas laughed—a cold, chilling sound that put John further on edge. "I don't know where that girl is," the demon said as its laughter subsided. "Probably dead, by now."

"No, she's alive," the exorcist insisted.

The demon's grin grew wider, and it took another few steps forward. John could see the horrifying details of its appearance. Its yellow eyes sunk deep into its skull, white skin pulled taught over jutting cheek bones. As it got closer, John could see red veins beneath the white skin. It was vaguely human in appearance, but the eyes and the fangs made it obvious that such a creature could not be from this plane of existence. John's eyes traveled down to the Abraxas' hands, which were just as pale as its face. He noticed the four-inch claws—they were chipped and cracked, but deadly in appearance nonetheless.

"What is this girl to you?" Abraxas questioned, still approaching slowly.

John wearily took a step backwards. "She's innocent," he said. He looked nervously at the devil's trap holding Abraxas. Surely he had drawn it correctly—how was the demon still coming towards him?

Abraxas must have noticed his uncertainty. It smirked. "You thought this could hold me?"

John narrowed his eyes at the demon, determined to make it clear that he wasn't afraid. Abraxas was at the edge of the circle now, standing only a few yards in front of him. It was then that the smell hit him—the putrid odor of burning flesh. Exactly what Zed had described in her vision. Despite the cool mountain air, John began to sweat.

The demon glared its fangs at John and flexed its claws. "I'm going to enjoy ripping your insides out and dragging your soul to Hell, where it belongs. You will feel that pain for eternity."

John took another step back, and bent down to reach into his leather bag. At that moment, the wind began to pick up. The calm air suddenly turned into a howling whirlwind, blowing dust and debris high up into the sky. John looked down in horror as the devil's trap holding Abraxas was erased by the raging wind. He brandished a knife from his bag just as the demon lunged at him. Abraxas was upon him in an instant, and he felt the ice cold deadlock of the demon's hand around his throat. It slammed him into the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs with such force that he lost his vision for a brief moment. Then Abraxas was standing over him, smiling its hideous smile. John felt the white hot pain of claws digging into the back of his neck.

"I think we should go find John," said Zed as she and Chas exited the ranger's station. They had both thanked the sergeant for his time, but were frustrated that their meeting had turned out to be yet another dead end.

Chas nodded in agreement. "I'll go find him, but I think you should stay here at the station, where it's safe."

"You really want to split up again?" Zed asked, her brows furrowed.

Chas sighed. "I know it's not the best idea, but going up the mountain where John is summoning a demon is probably an even worse idea."

Though she desperately wanted to be there to help John, Zed decided Chas was probably right. There wasn't much she could do when it came to fighting demons. They came to the cab, and Zed leaned against the side of the car. "Fine," she said with a sigh of resignation. "I guess I'll wait here, but please be careful."

Chas nodded. "I'll be fine. Stay right here."

She watched as he jogged towards the treeline where the hiking trail began. He disappeared behind the leaves and branches, and she was left alone in the gravel lot. She realized suddenly that the forest seemed very quiet—normally there were birds singing, or even just the wind rustling through the trees. But now, everything seemed still and quiet. Almost too quiet. An uneasy feeling began to gnaw at her gut. She felt, without a doubt, that John was in serious danger.

John yelled out in agony as the demon's claws tore into his abdomen. The pain was so intense—he felt certain for a moment that he would pass out. When Abraxas withdrew its claws, John stumbled to the ground. Dark red blood spurted from his wound and pooled in the dust around him. He gasped, clutching his side. His knife had fallen on the ground nearby, and with his free hand he grabbed it, just as the demon rushed him again.

He swung the knife blindly, and it clipped the demon's upper arm. Abraxas hissed and jumped back. The knife had been blessed in holy water, and the wound burnt the demon's skin. But to Abraxas, it was nothing—the exorcist's attack had only angered it.

With a groan, John hoisted himself to his feet and pointed the knife at the demon. He could feel himself getting weaker as blood continued to trickle from the wound in his abdomen. Just standing up had made him dizzy, and he knew he had to finish this fight right away. "Come and get me you bastard," he said breathlessly, wincing as a fresh wave of pain shot through his torso.

Abraxas had recovered from the pain of the gash in its arm, and it glowered at John. "Those are some big words for someone who can barely stand."

John gripped the knife tightly as the demon came at him again. Its claws lashed out, aiming for the exorcist's throat, but John ducked out of the way just in time. He thrust the knife out, and the blade sank deep into the demon's chest. Abraxas howled in agony and slumped forward, but remained on its feet. It took a step back, the knife still lodged in its chest. John watched as the demon let out a low growl, and then lifted its gaze to look at him with all the fury of an inferno from Hell.

It barred its teeth at John and hissed. A pale hand came up and yanked the blade from its own chest, tossing it aside as if it were a mild annoyance. Abraxas splayed its claws and rushed at John with a new found hatred. The exorcist threw a hand out in desperation.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—_"

But Abraxas was upon him again in an instant. The demon's claws sliced deep through his chest, sending a spray of crimson droplets through the air. John gasped and fell to the ground again, barely holding onto consciousness as the crippling pain threatened to knock him out.

"_Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,_" He gasped. It hurt to talk now—even to breathe. Everything hurt. But Abraxas was relentless. The demon threw its claws out again—more blood, more white hot pain. But its attack was weaker this time. The exorcism was working, but Abraxas would not be banished without a fight.

"_Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._"

Abraxas raised its head and howled. The wind picked up again, tearing its way through the trees and sending waves of dust and ash across the barren landscape. The demon looked down at John as it pinned him to the ground with its blood-stained claws. "I'll see you in Hell," it seethed, raising its free hand to deliver the killing blow.

With every last ounce of his strength, John looked Abraxas straight in its piercing orbs and shouted, "_Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te_!"

The demon's hand came down and sliced through John's throat just as a bolt of electricity coursed through its body. Abraxas burst into flames and shrieked in agony as the fire consumed its body. The wind howled, cloaking the dying demon in a wall of dust.

Then, in an instant, it was quiet. The dust settled, and Abraxas was gone—only a few orange embers glowed on the ground where the demon had just stood. An eerie, gray stillness settled once again over Clingmans Dome.

Chas emerged from the tree line then, panting. He looked around wildly at the vast expanse of destroyed forest. "John!" He yelled.

Then he saw him. He gasped as his eyes were met with the gruesome scene. John lay there, unmoving, his white shirt stained in dark red. Chas ran over and fell to his knees in the dust beside his friend.

"John!" He shouted again. He grabbed the exorcist by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back. John's eyes were closed, and fresh blood poured from the deep gash in his neck. His lips were parted slightly, and Chas could see that his mouth was filling with blood. A single red line trailed down his chin.

Chas took in the horrifying extent of the wounds. "No, no, no. Please, no." He grabbed the exorcist by the shoulders and shook him.

"John!"


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: I apologize I just made the cliffhanger from the last chapter even worse...lol. As always, thank you so much for the reviews!_

Kevin Woodward and Lori Molter's lives never should have crossed paths. Kevin was a thirty-something human resources manager for a local insurance company, and Lori was a recent college graduate, having just completed her bachelor's degree in criminal justice. The young game warden had worked extraordinarily hard to finish her education—she'd taken two years off to raise her son, Carter. But Lori was very driven, and although she'd made the mistake of getting pregnant her junior year in college, she didn't regret it. Her son was the best thing to ever happen to her, and motherhood turned out to be one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of her life.

At 24, Lori returned to school, and finished her degree a year later. She graduated with high honors, and landed a career as a game warden at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. She loved her job, her son, and her life. Being a single mother had its challenges, but she wouldn't trade her experiences for the world. Carter grew to be a happy, healthy boy. He was extraordinarily smart, and at his third birthday party, he impressed Lori by reading one of his birthday cards out loud to her.

"Mommy, it says 'Hap-pee bird day!" He shouted, bright-eyed with excitement.

Lori had laughed. "_Birthday,_" she corrected. "What sound does T-H make?"

Carter furrowed his brows in concentration and squinted at the card in his small hands. "Bird...day," He said slowly.

Lori chuckled again and planted a kiss on top of her son's blonde head. "Very good, Carter. I'm impressed!"

And he had smiled up at her proudly. That unforgettable smile that had the power to brighten anyone's day. She would never, ever forget it.

Kevin Woodward had a successful career and a loving family. Like Lori, he'd worked hard to build the life he had. He'd worked his way up the chain of command at his job, and soon he was bringing in enough money to buy his family a big house in the suburbs. Kara had a huge backyard where she could practice soccer, and a tree house where she would often have sleepovers with her friends.

But, Kevin's life came to a grinding halt one day when he lost his job. His boss hadn't given him any good reason, and the termination seemed to come out of the blue. Kevin was devastated. How would he tell his wife? He remembered the conversation very well, the night he came home from the office for the last time.

Shannon was sitting on the couch reading, but she looked up when her husband walked into the front room, a cardboard box tucked under his arm."Honey, what's going on?" She'd asked, noticing the pained expression on his face.

Kevin shook his head in dismay and shrugged. "They let me go."

"What?!" She stood up and walked over to him slowly. "Why?"

Kevin shrugged again. "I don't know."

Shannon had sighed and run a hand through her hair. She didn't know what to say. They still had a mortgage and car payments to make, and they desperately needed to start a college fund for Kara. Shannon hadn't worked since Kara was born, and she didn't think she would make enough to cover all of their expenses if she returned to her job as a school nurse.

She put a hand to her forehead and let out a sigh. "It's okay, Kevin. We'll figure this out."

But they struggled. Kevin's unemployment checks eventually ran out, and he still hadn't found a job. They were behind on their bills, and the financial stress was putting a lot of strain on their marriage. Shannon had taken up a part-time job at the hospital, but the couple struggled to keep up with everything. Kara noticed their stress. Family dinners were mostly silent, and when Kara tried to tell her parents what she had done at school that day, she was frequently dismissed with a simple 'That's nice honey' or a silent nod.

A few weeks after losing his job, Kevin began drinking. He frequented the local bars, and on many occasions he didn't return home until two or three in the morning. When he came home smelling of cigarettes and alcohol, Shannon would get angry, and they fought.

"You can't keep dealing with your problems like this!" She yelled at him one night.

"I was just out with friends," Kevin insisted.

"You're _drunk_, Kevin."

He grumbled and collapsed into bed. His head hurt and he didn't feel like fighting with his wife tonight.

Shannon let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "I can't deal with this anymore. What kind of example are you setting for your daughter? And did you _drive_ home?!"

Kevin had, in fact, driven. He refused to call a cab, insisting he was 'only a little buzzed.' He'd driven plenty of times after his excursions to the bar, and felt confident that he could make it down the rural mountain road between the town and his neighborhood without incident.

It was on a Friday night that Kevin had been driving home along that mountain road, under the influence of several shots and countless beers. Lori Molter was driving the opposite direction, on her way home from visiting with her parents. Carter was fast asleep in the backseat. Lori had glanced up in the rear view mirror to look at her son, exhausted after his long day of helping Grandma make cookies and playing chase in the backyard with Grandpa. She smiled to herself, seeing her son's peaceful expression. It was the last thing she remembered before Kevin's pickup slammed head on into her Civic at nearly eighty miles per hour.

"Damn it John," Chas cursed at his friend. The exorcist's wounds were bad—the bleeding didn't seem to be slowing one bit. Whatever kind of demon had attacked him, it had been very powerful. Chas had never seen his friend this beaten up; he absently hoped John was just 'beaten up.' He refused to believe his friend could be killed so easily. With two fingers, Chas cautiously felt underneath John's jawline for a pulse.

There. It was weak, but it was there. Chas let out a sigh of temporary relief. His friend may be torn and battered, but he was _alive. _For the moment, at least. Thinking fast, Chas took off his jacket, wadded it up and pressed it against John's torso to slow the bleeding. Chas saw the cloth wrapped around one of the exorcist's hands, and he yanked it free. Carefully, he scrunched up the cloth and pressed it into the gash on John's neck. He wasn't a doctor, but judging by the sheer volume of blood, Chas could guess that the demon had severed a pretty serious vessel in the exorcist's neck. His friend wouldn't last much longer.

Chas scooped the exorcist's limp body up in his arms, surprised at how light he was. He trekked his way back down the mountain trail, trying not to stumble while simultaneously attempting to get back to the ranger's station as fast as possible.

Back in the parking lot, Zed knew that something was seriously wrong. She glanced around nervously, trying to decide if she should go up the trail and search for John and Chas. After thinking on it a moment, she decided she probably should go. But first, she would ask Sergeant Gehring to go with her. It couldn't hurt to at least have someone with her, just in case she encountered any demonic forest fires on her way up. Though Zed was reluctant to ask for such help, she knew it would be necessary to have someone there who knew the woods better than she did.

Zed rushed back into the ranger's station, ignoring Lori's questioning glance as she strode past the front desk and down the narrow hallway to Sergeant Gehring's office. She rapped on his door and waited.

The officer answered a moment later, and looked at her, confused. "Did you forget something?" He asked.

"My friends went up the mountain and I think they're in trouble," she blurted.

Gehring saw the worry in her eyes. "Don't they know it's not safe up there?" He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He grabbed his jacket from a nearby coat hanger and shouldered past her down the hall. "C'mon, let's find them."

But when they exited the station, Chas was already there. He was holding John's tattered body, an expression of distress contorting his features. "We need to get to the hospital, _now_," Chas ordered, as soon as he saw Zed and the sergeant.

Zed froze as she laid eyes on the broken, bloodied body of John Constantine. A hand flew up to her mouth involuntarily. "Oh my God," she choked out. "Is he—?"

"He's barely hanging on," Chas said grimly.

Sergeant Gehring quickly recovered from the gruesome sight. He sprang into action and ran over to his cruiser, opening the back door wide. "Put him in. I can get you there faster."

Chas quickly obliged and carried the exorcist over to the cruiser, bending down to slide him into the backseat. He looked over at Zed, who was still frozen in place. "Zed, get in. Keep pressure on his wounds."

Zed nodded silently, her eyes still wide with disbelief. Gehring had already hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine, and Chas was climbing into the passenger seat of the cruiser. She slid into the backseat next to John and propped his head up against her leg. There was so much blood, and for a minute she thought she might throw up.

Gehring switched the sirens on and the cruiser flew down the mountain road. But for Zed, time seemed to stand still. She stared down at John, and almost didn't recognize him. He was so pale, but his features looked completely different. Every muscle in his face was relaxed—an expression she'd never witnessed with him. She stared at his face in an attempt to avoid the gruesome sight of his torn abdomen.

Chas turned to look back at her from the passenger seat. "Keep pressure on those wounds, Zed," He said sternly.

She nodded and pressed the jacket into his sternum, grimacing as she felt something give beneath her hand—a broken rib, probably. She looked back at John's face, and struggled to hold herself together as she noted how utterly lifeless he looked. Was he even still alive?

Even as she asked the question to herself, there was movement beneath the exorcist's eyelids. It was imperceptible, at first, and she was sure she had just imagined it. But then he blinked. Zed gasped.

"John?" she croaked out.

His eyes flew open, and he looked around wildly. He didn't appear to be seeing anything as his dark eyes darted around the cab. There was a sharp rasping noise as he drew in a shallow, pained breath. When he exhaled, his breath caught on the blood in his throat, and he coughed weakly.

Chas looked back at him, then at Zed. "He's in shock. Try to keep him calm."

She didn't take her eyes off of him. "John?" She repeated.

His eyes searched the interior of the cruiser a brief moment, and then met her own. She attempted a reassuring smile as he looked at her. "Hey, we're getting you to the hospital, okay? You're going to be all right."

His lips moved weakly in an attempted response. He coughed again, a little louder this time. His eyes began to slip closed, and Zed feared he may be taking his last, ragged breaths.

"Stay with me, John," She pleaded, her voice breaking as she attempted to hold it together. "We're almost there."

The exorcist blinked his eyes slowly a few times. His lips moved again, and this time, he was able to utter a quiet sound. It was as if he was trying to say something.

As Zed looked into his dark eyes, she recalled her fight with him that morning. It had been so stupid, and now she regretted it more than ever. John could die, and the last thing he would remember was their fight. She fought back tears and pushed the thought from her mind. John would _not_ die.

His lips moved again and she leaned in closer. "Zed..." he breathed. He coughed again, and a violent shudder wracked his frame.

"I don't—" He gasped, and a fresh trail of blood trickled from his mouth. "—don't want to go...to Hell," he managed weakly.

Zed bit her lip and shook her head. "You're not going to Hell, John. You're not going anywhere."

But even as she said it, a long, slow exhale left John's lungs and his whole body seemed to relax. His eyelids fell as if they were weighed down, but didn't close completely. His pupils grew larger, and Zed could tell he was no longer seeing her. She felt her stomach twist into a knot as she recognized the glazed look in his eyes. With a shaking hand, she felt for a pulse. There was nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: I should have mentioned earlier that I am having difficulty inserting page breaks. They just don't show up when I publish the chapter, so I do apologize for that. I guess I also like dramatic hospital scenes so bear with me on this. _

The next few minutes were a blur for Zed. Just as John's heart and breathing ceased, the cruiser swung into the circle drive of the emergency room entrance. Gehring had already radioed the hospital, and there were ER staff waiting outside. The door next to her was thrown open, and Zed moved aside so the nurses and technicians could take over. John's lifeless body was whisked out of the backseat and onto a stretcher, but Zed's eyes never left his face.

"How long has it been since he stopped breathing?" A voice asked urgently.

Zed continued to stare blankly as one of the technicians shined a small flashlight in John's eyes, and another took scissors and cut away his blood-stained shirt. "Um, he—" She struggled to put words together. None of what was happening seemed real. She wondered if this was all just a vision or dream of some sort. Perhaps any minute now, she would wake up somewhere else, and John would be fine. He would be his usual, cocky, arrogant self—lighting up a cigarette or making some sort of snide remark.

"Just now," she finally replied. The nurse nodded and ran inside as the technicians wheeled John beyond the sliding glass doors of the emergency room.

Zed, Chas, and Gehring followed behind. They entered the lobby and watched as John was given an IV, and an oxygen mask was placed over his face. The nurses and technicians bustled around him, giving shots and hooking him up to various machines. When Zed noticed the flat line on his heart monitor, her legs suddenly felt weak. She turned away and went to sit in a nearby chair, leaning forward with her hands covering her forehead. Chas must have felt unable to watch any longer as well, because he went and sat down in the chair next to her. But they sat in silence—neither knew what to say.

"Clear!" Someone shouted. Zed looked up slowly. John's chest lurched off the table as the defibrillator paddles made contact. But the flat line remained steady—no response. Zed swallowed nervously and fought back a fresh wave of emotion.

"Clear!" His back arched off the table again and fell flat, but there was nothing. Zed buried her head in her hands. This couldn't be happening. Not to John. Not to the self-centered exorcist who scoffed in the face of danger on a daily basis. Not to the stubborn, conceited, seemingly invincible John Constantine, who sent demons running back to Hell like it was nothing. Not to the man who had finally given her life some sort of meaning, even after all the years she'd spent running from her dark past.

"Just call it, doc," a voice said. There was a pause as the drone of the heart monitor carried on. The awful noise was drilling a hole through Zed's consciousness.

"Charge to 500," the doctor finally said.

"That could fry his heart," someone replied.

"I said 500."

Another pause. Zed stole a glance across the small lobby. The doctor, a younger woman probably not far removed from medical school, was looking sternly across the table at the nurse. With a sigh, the nurse reached over and turned a dial on the defibrillator.

"Clear!"

The monotonous drone was broken by a higher-pitched 'blip,' and the sound continued as a steady, rhythmic beat. There was a collective sigh of relief from the ER staff. "He's back," one said.

"Oh my God," Zed gasped out. She put a hand over her heart in an attempt to calm the hammering in her chest.

Chas' shoulders dropped in relief. He looked over at Zed and tried to give her a reassuring smile. "That's John for ya."

She tried to smile back, but the tears were still threatening to spill over. She turned away and shook her head. "He's such an idiot."

Sergeant Gehring walked over to them, shaking his head in disbelief. "Your friend has one hell of a guardian angel looking out for him."

Chas and Zed exchanged a glance. Under different circumstances, they would have laughed at such a remark. But instead, the three of them watched silently as John was wheeled out of the lobby and down a hall towards the operating room. They remained in quiet contemplation for a while, knowing that the exorcist was nowhere near being out of the woods yet.

Gehring turned to look at Zed and Chas. "It's been a long time since I've seen a bear attack like this," he said.

Chas looked up at the officer and opened his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut. Of course it was a bear. What else would the sergeant think it was? He nodded in silent agreement.

Another half hour or so passed before Gehring finally insisted he had to get back to the station. He left Chas and Zed with his contact information, and promised he would hunt down the bear that had attacked their friend.

They waited for what seemed like a lifetime. As each hour ticked by, Zed became increasingly anxious. She got up several times to pace around the waiting area, her head bent deep in thought. Chas watched her with concern, but he too was feeling the uncertainty. At one point, Zed went and sat back in the chair next to Chas. He could see the moisture in her eyes, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"If anyone can survive this, it's him. Trust me," he said.

Zed looked at him and tried to smile, but only ended up making a weird movement with her lips. She looked away quickly. "I fought with him, Chas. The last thing I ever did was accuse him of something he didn't do."

Chas chuckled softly and shook his head. "There are much worse things you could have done," he said. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the clock on the opposite wall. "You're his friend, and that's all he cares about. Just being there is more than most people have ever done for him."

Zed brushed away a stray tear and was finally able to smile. "I guess so," she replied.

They fell into silence again. The hours ticked away, and the bustling of activity in the ER seemed to die down some. Except for a few nurses walking around and checking on patients, the lobby was surprisingly calm.

Then suddenly, Zed heard the sliding glass doors of the ER open, and she looked up to see a group of paramedics wheeling a woman in on a stretcher. They were moving very fast, a sense of extreme urgency in their stride. As they flew past her, Zed caught a glimpse of the woman's injuries—she was covered in blood, and there were shards of glass embedded in her skin, all over her body. Her face was torn up and swollen. The paramedics were shouting, urging staff and visitors to move out of the way.

"_Dios mio_," Zed breathed as the woman and the paramedics disappeared around a corner.

Chas looked over at her. "What?"

She looked back at him, her eyes wide with concern. "That poor woman."

"What woman?"

Zed stared. "The woman that just—" But she stopped. Chas was looking at her as if she was speaking in tongues. Then it clicked with her—there hadn't been a woman there. It had been a vision. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head as she looked up at the clock. John had been in surgery for over five hours now, and there was no word yet on his condition. She got up from the chair and began pacing again. After another hour had passed, Zed grew more and more irritated, until she finally walked up to the nurse's station.

"Excuse me, can you tell me anything about John Constantine's condition?" She asked a young woman seated behind the tall counter.

The brunette nurse looked up from behind a computer. "Are you family?"

She paused. "No, I'm—"

"I'm sorry, I can't disclose any information then."

Zed was about to protest when Chas came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm his brother," he spoke to the nurse. "How is he?"

The nurse looked Chas up and down and narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something just as a man in blue scrubs walked up to the counter.

"Are you two with Mr. Constantine?" The surgeon asked.

Zed spun around to look at the man. She quickly nodded, taking in the exhausted look on the surgeon's face.

"Is he okay?" Chas asked.

"He's stable," the surgeon replied. Chas and Zed let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"But," he started again, "we'll need to monitor him very closely. A potential complication of hypovolemic shock is severe brain damage. Your friend is a fighter, there's no doubt about that. But he went several minutes without oxygen to his brain, and we're concerned about his neuronal activity at this point."

Zed nodded grimly, but—like Chas had said—if anyone could come back from this, it was John. He had made it this far, and she had to believe he was on the upswing now.

"Can we see him?" Chas asked.

The physician nodded and motioned down a hallway. "We're keeping him in intensive care. He's in room 120."

Chas and Zed thanked the surgeon before heading down the indicated hallway. They found room 120, and Chas paused before opening the door. He looked at Zed.

"Are you sure you want to see him?" He asked her.

She looked back, slightly confused, but nodded quickly. "Of course."

Chas sighed. "Okay." He opened the door slowly, and they walked into the dimly lit room. They were greeted by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the hum of a ventilator. Lights and numbers flashed on several screens and digital displays. But despite the sounds and various machines, the room held a rather peaceful atmosphere.

Zed's eyes fell on the blonde man lying in the hospital bed who, at first, she did not recognize. His eyes were closed, and there was clear tape across his mouth, holding an endotracheal tube in place. A thick, white patch of gauze now covered the gash in his neck, and without his shirt, Zed could see the long, crooked trails of stitches holding his skin together. Although they had tried to clean him up, there were still traces of blood smeared around the edges of the stitched wounds.

Without taking her eyes off of him, Zed walked slowly over to the bed. A lump formed in her throat, and she found herself fighting back tears once more. John looked so weak and fragile—it wasn't natural seeing him in such a condition.

Chas grabbed two chairs sitting by the doorway and set one down for Zed, then went to the other side of the bed and took a seat in the other. For a long while, they sat in silence. Chas watched the steady rise and fall of John's chest as the ventilator pumped air into his lungs.

Meanwhile, Zed's eyes never strayed from the exorcist's face. She still couldn't get over the guilt of their trivial fight—the fight that _she _had started. She took a deep breath. "John, I'm so sorry," she said quietly. The ventilator hummed and the monitor kept a steady pace. Except for his breathing, John was completely still. A silent tear trailed down the side of Zed's cheek as she reached out to take his hand.

Chas was silent, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward and gazed at his friend. He made a mental note that once John was fully recovered, he would beat his ass. Normally, John never would have made the mistake of underestimating a demon. But this time, he had—and it had very nearly cost him his life. Chas cautioned a guess that John's mind had been elsewhere during the confrontation. And more than likely, he figured, it had to do with his ongoing rift with Zed. Chas sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Although they were both physically and emotionally exhausted, Chas and Zed stayed with John well into the early morning hours. By the time the sun had begun to rise, Chas was snoring softly. But Zed remained awake, still holding on to John's hand as the new day dawned.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: This chapter has three page breaks. I really hope they show up, but if not I'm sorry! Anyways, we're getting close to the end! I also had to throw in our favorite guest star!_

Lori vividly recalled the day she had woken up in the ICU, three days after the car accident. She was confused at first, not recognizing where she was. Nurses were moving around her room, adjusting her IV and changing her bandages. As she came to, memories of the violent crash came flooding back. In her mind, she saw the bright headlights coming straight for her car, and she remembered screaming as she realized there was no time to react. She remembered the bone-jarring impact and the violent shattering of glass. As she remembered those horrifying moments, She began to hyperventilate and break out in a cold sweat. One nurse had looked up in concern as her heart monitor went wild.

"Ma'am, it's okay, you're in the hospital," the nurse had told her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"My son," Lori croaked out.

The nurse had looked away and pressed a button on the monitor. "Your parents are talking to the doctor, but they should be back very soon."

"My _son_," Lori demanded, louder this time.

But the nurse acted as if she didn't hear her. She went around to the other side of the bed and switched out Lori's IV bag. Then she had walked over to a nearby cabinet and had taken a small vial from one of the shelves. "I'm going to give you more painkillers, okay Ms. Molter?"

Lori was fuming now. If she hadn't felt so weak and sore, she would have jumped out of bed and wrung the nurse's neck. "Where is Carter?!" She nearly shouted.

The nurse stopped in her tracks and sighed. She looked away sadly, and at that instant, Lori feared the worst.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Molter," the nurse had said quietly. "Your son was DOA. But the paramedics don't think he suffered long, if at all."

Lori felt her stomach twist into a knot and a thick lump formed in her throat. In that moment, it felt as if her entire world had just been ripped out from underneath her. It couldn't be true. Her son couldn't be gone—it simply couldn't happen. There was no way that her vibrant, happy little boy was dead. But the nurse's solemn expression said it was true. Her son's life had been reduced to three, simple letters—DOA. Dead On Arrival. How was she supposed to live with the knowledge, the guilt? How was she supposed to go on?

But her grief quickly turned into anger. Who had been driving the vehicle that killed her son? Who had been the one to take away her sole purpose in life, her one reason for living?

In the following weeks, as Lori spent her days recovering and undergoing extensive therapy, she found out. A drunk man, traveling nearly twice the speed limit, had hit her head on. And even worse, he was _fine_. He had practically walked away from the accident. But her son, her innocent little Carter, had been killed in one of the most horrific ways imaginable. How was that fair?

The anger began to consume Lori's life. She was released from the hospital three months later, and when she returned to work, she was placed at a desk job. The accident had left her with significant muscle damage in her legs, which prevented her from moving around the way she used to. And she hated the man—Kevin Woodward—even more. He'd killed her son and taken away her ability to do the job she loved. She hated him, and she couldn't wait for the day he was convicted and left to rot in prison for what he had done.

The trial came, and Lori remembered the first time she laid eyes on Kevin. She had sat on one of the courtroom benches, and he had been sitting across the room at the defense table. He was talking quietly to his attorney, nodding and whispering something she couldn't discern. Had she not been in a courthouse, Lori probably would have walked over to him and bashed his head into the table.

She had sat quietly as both sides argued their case. The prosecution was pushing for second degree murder, saying that Kevin had distinctly made the decision to drink and drive that night. The prosecutor showed the jury pictures of Carter, saying that the little boy had become the victim of Kevin's voluntary decision to drive that night. But the defense fired back—something absurd about Kevin losing his job and not possessing the proper judgment to call a cab that night.

Lori had made the decision not to testify. She was emotionally distraught enough without reliving the memories, and she trusted the state's attorney to send her son's killer to prison. How could anyone look at Carter, smiling so brightly in the photographs, and not see the injustice in his death? So when the jury came back with their verdict, Lori was _sure_ that Kevin would be found guilty.

.o.o.o.o.

John had no idea where he was. He spun around, but saw only a dense, white mist that completely surrounded him. There was no horizon, no sky, and no visible features whatsoever. Looking down at the ground, he saw the same white fog swirling in eddies around his boots. The thick haze encircled him on all sides. What kind of place was this?

"Well this is lovely," he muttered, still looking around in confusion.

He began to walk, and the white mist swirled around in his wake. Visibility wasn't more than a few feet, and he moved forward cautiously as he searched for a sign as to where he was. Heck, it would be nice just to see anything at this point. But even as he moved forward, nothing seemed to change. The fog seemed to go on forever.

"I always knew you were prone to making rash decisions, John," a familiar voice spoke suddenly from behind him.

The exorcist spun around as a dark figure stepped out from the white mist. "Manny, of course you would show up at a time like this," he said, glaring at the angel.

Manny took a few steps forward so that he was looking John straight in the eye. "I knew you were prone to these kind of decisions," he continued, "but I can't believe you actually got yourself killed."

An expression of shock flashed across John's face briefly, but he quickly recovered his guise and narrowed his eyes at the angel. "Nice try, mate. If I was dead I'd be in Hell, and this sure isn't Hell."

Manny sighed and looked around at the dense fog surrounding them. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I think a mere mortal would surely lose his mind in a place like this." He walked a few feet away, looking upwards at a point in the mist as if he could actually see something there. "This could certainly be Hell, for all you know."

John eyed him with skepticism. He was getting annoyed now, as he often did when Manny was being vague and unhelpful. "It isn't Hell though," the exorcist said after a momentary pause. It was more of a question than a statement.

Manny turned to look at him with his bright, penetrating eyes. "That depends on you now, doesn't it John?"

John turned around, gesturing with his arms to the emptiness surrounding them. "There's literally not a damn thing here," he replied in a vexed tone. He looked around at the hovering fog, which still hadn't changed one bit. He was quickly realizing how one might lose their mind in such a place.

"That's because you're brain dead," Manny said simply.

John huffed. "That's the same as being dead. And like I said, if I was dead, there would be chains and fire and demons."

Manny looked back at him. "Wherever you choose to be, John, that decision is yours."

The exorcist rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, yeah." He took a few slow steps towards the angel. "Now tell me, Manny. I know you didn't show up here just to mock me in my so-called 'death'." He paused a moment, considering it. "Not that I would put it past you, _but_—" he continued, an edge of austerity to his voice, "what really brings you here?"

The angel looked at him with his piercing gold eyes. "I've come to warn you, John," he replied.

.o.o.o.o.

Later that afternoon in room 120 of the ICU, there was a quiet knock on the door. Zed realized she had been dozing, and quickly jerked awake.

Chas was already awake in his chair on the other side of the bed. "Come in!" He called.

The door opened and a middle-aged man in a white coat stepped in, smiling at Chas and Zed. "Good afternoon," the doctor greeted them as he closed the door behind him. "I'm Dr. Volkert, head of neurology. I have the results of John's PET here." He waved a folder as he walked over to the side of the bed.

Zed nodded and looked up at the neurologist. "How is he?"

Dr. Volkert opened the folder and glanced at the papers inside. "He's doing very well, actually. We can take him off the ventilator and I expect he'll wake up on his own in a day or two." The neurologist proceeded to take a small flashlight from his coat pocket and shine it in both of John's eyes. He nodded and scribbled something down in the folder.

"So there won't be any lasting effects?" Chas asked.

The doctor shook his head and continued to write on his charts. "From what I can tell, he should make a full recovery." He looked up and smiled at them. "He's one of the lucky ones, I can tell you that."

Chas and Zed nodded in agreement, and thanked Dr. Volkert as he slipped out the door. Zed shook her head in disbelief. "Maybe Manny _has_ been looking out for him," she said thoughtfully.

Chas laughed. "I don't know about that." He looked over at John, who was still in a deep sleep. The exorcist was just as motionless as he had been the previous night, but this time it looked as if some color had returned to his face. "Maybe there's someone watching out for him, but I highly doubt it's Manny."

Zed shrugged. "You never know."

Chas stood up then and nodded towards John. "While we wait for sleeping beauty here to wake up, I think I'm gonna head to the cafeteria. Want anything?"

"Coffee, please," she said.

After Chas had left, Zed watched John for a while. She noted, with a sense of relief, that he was beginning to look like himself again. A nurse came in and removed John's ventilator, replaced his IV, and gave him a shot of painkillers. Not long after, Zed began to doze off. She hadn't slept at all the night before, but now that she knew John would be all right, she could feel the exhaustion hitting her hard. By the time Chas returned with the coffee, she was fast asleep.

.o.o.o.o.

John eyed Manny with suspicion. "Warn me about what?" He asked.

"First let me explain something to you, John," Manny started, narrowing his gaze at the exorcist. "You didn't kill Abraxas. You banished it. Sent it back to Hell."

John cocked an eyebrow. "So? The bastard's gone, that's all that matters."

Manny shook his head. "You don't get it, John. How do you think Abraxas got here in the first place?"

John stared back at Manny, still not understanding what the angel was trying to say. There was a brief pause before he said, "Someone summoned it, obviously. Someone who felt the need to kidnap a seven year-old girl."

The angel laughed and shook his head again. "The Rising Darkness, John. No one summoned Abraxas—it came here of its own accord. The barrier between Hell and Earth is...flimsy, at best."

The exorcist flicked his gaze nervously. When he looked back at Manny, the angel was still watching him, a hint of concern swimming in his glassy eyes.

"Abraxas will claw its way back up here very soon," Manny continued. "And when it does, you'd best be prepared for it. You've angered it tremendously."

John ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "Well that old knife didn't work—only managed to piss it off." Then he glared at Manny. "I don't suppose you would actually tell me how to kill it."

"Well," said Manny, "you know I'm not technically supposed to sway the—"

"—outcome of events, yeah I got that." John cut him off, a note of irritation in his voice.

"But what I can tell you," the angel continued, "is that you need to first destroy what is keeping Abraxas alive. You need to find what is binding it to this plane."

"And what might that be?"

Manny smirked. "Start with Lori Molter," he replied.

"The game warden?" John asked, narrowing his eyes at Manny. "What does she have to do with—"

But before he could finish the question, there was a rustling of feathers and the angel was gone. John groaned and rolled his eyes. He should have seen that coming. Looking around, he noticed that the white mist surrounding him had grown even thicker. It seemed to be reaching out to him with cold, ghostly fingers. He spun around, unsure how he was to supposed to escape such a place. "Manny!" He yelled into the stillness. But he was answered only by his muffled echo.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note: This chapter is a little long, but that's just how it worked out. I'm thinking there will be two or three more after this one. ALSO: I know they do not just keep drugs sitting in hospital rooms. Just go with it for the sake of the story..._

"As to the charge of murder in the second degree, we the jury find the defendant, Kevin Woodward, not guilty."

Those words were like a punch in the gut for Lori. She remembered the awful, sinking feeling in her stomach after hearing the words 'not guilty' in the courtroom. Even worse, as she sat alone that day, she watched as Kevin's wife and daughter hugged him in celebration after the verdict was read. There were smiles on their faces, and she could see their lips move, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Instead of second degree murder, Kevin was convicted on involuntary manslaughter—a much lesser offense. He would be released from jail in no more than five years. Sure, Shannon was celebrating the verdict. But Lori didn't know the real reason Shannon was celebrating—and it wasn't for her husband. In fact, she could care less if she never saw Kevin again. Shannon was happy with the verdict, because it meant that her daughter would still have a father. He would be out in time to see Kara graduate high school. He would be there to walk her down the aisle when she got married. Shannon didn't care if she ever had a husband again—she only cared that her daughter had a father.

But even if Lori had known this, it most likely would not have mattered, because Carter would never grow up. He would never graduate high school, or get married. It incited a tremendous anger in Lori, and she had stormed out of the courtroom moments after the verdict was read.

In the days that followed, Lori spent her time hiking up at Clingmans Dome. It was good exercise for her injured legs, plus it offered her the opportunity to clear her mind and temporarily forget her anger. The mountains offered her a quiet, peaceful getaway, and just breathing the fresh air seemed to lift her spirits.

On one such occasion, as Lori neared the peak of the Dome, she was caught off guard by a putrid odor. It had smelled a bit like burning flesh, and she had looked around for smoke or any sign of a fire. After finding nothing, she had turned around to start back down the mountain. It was then that she came face to face with the demon Abraxas.

"Hello, Lori," it had said, baring its white fangs.

She had screamed and tried to run, but only ended up tripping on a loose rock. Sitting up on the ground, she had used her hands and feet to back away slowly as Abraxas approached her. The smell got even worse, and she wanted to vomit.

"I sense you've experienced tremendous grief," the demon went on as it stepped closer.

Lori couldn't speak. She'd only sat there, staring at the pale skin and the terrifying, yellow eyes. After a moment, she managed to find her voice. "W-what do you want?" She stammered, still trying to edge away cautiously.

"To help," the demon replied, its smirk growing ever so wider. "I can kill the man who murdered your son."

Lori's eyes grew wide as she continued to stare. She still didn't understand what was going on, but as the demon mentioned Kevin, she remembered her profound sadness and the immense pain that had consumed her life since her son's death. But despite these emotions, Lori had refused the offer to have Kevin killed. She wasn't a psychopath, and she certainly wasn't a killer—even if this strange, grotesque creature was offering to do the dirty work for her.

"Don't kill him," she had said. She eyed the demon cautiously, but soon began to relax. It was a hideously ugly thing, but if it had wanted to hurt her, it surely would have done so by now. "Why do you want to help me?" She had asked it, as she slowly pushed up from the ground.

Abraxas watched her as she stood up, but it never made a move towards her. "I'm in the business of doing favors for payment," it had replied.

Lori looked at the demon curiously. "What kind of payment?"

"Just your soul, whenever you happen to die. Of natural causes, of course."

The game warden was taken aback. She made a move to back away from the demon, but it came towards her. "Now, Lori. What can I do for you?" It asked slowly.

Though the creature terrified her, Lori had made a deal. Her grief was so all-consuming that she couldn't refuse the opportunity, even if it meant giving up her soul eventually. "Don't kill Kevin," she had repeated, looking the demon bravely in its frightening orbs. "Bring me his daughter. I want him to know what it's like to lose a child. But _don't _hurt her."

Abraxas smirked. "You're no fun." But the demon had agreed, and later that night, it broke into Kara's bedroom and whisked her away into the darkness. The little girl had screamed and tried to fight back, but the demon only had to lay a finger to her forehead before she was knocked out cold. By the time the news of Kara's disappearance had spread, Lori was pleased with her decision. For the first time in years, she felt there was some justice in her world once again.

.o.o.o.o.

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor came to the surface of John's consciousness, and he began to awaken from his comatose state. As he stirred, Chas looked over at his friend. "John?" He asked, leaning over to get a better look at the exorcist.

John groaned and opened his eyes, squinting in the bright light. He looked around a moment, trying to understand where he was. Once he realized he was lying in a bed, hooked up to various machines, he rolled his eyes over in Chas' direction. "Really, mate?" He asked in a hoarse whisper. "A hospital?"

Chas laughed. He knew his friend hated hospitals. "Sorry, John."

John grimaced as he realized how sore his body was. His arms and legs might have been made of lead, and there was a dull ache in his chest. He rolled his head to the side to look at Chas. "Did I die?" He asked, the volume returning in his voice.

Chas hesitated a moment. "Technically, yes. But they revived you."

"Damn," John muttered, and then he laughed weakly. "I guess Manny wasn't lying."

"You saw Manny?"

"Yeah. Can't even get away from him when I'm unconscious apparently." John looked away and took a deep breath, wincing as his ribs ached. "Tried to tell me I was brain dead, too," he continued.

Chas shrugged. "You were on a ventilator for a bit. Just acute ischemia, though. The neurologist said there shouldn't be any complications." He paused a moment as John gave him a confused look. "I think Manny was exaggerating."

John narrowed his eyes at his friend. "What are you, a bloody doctor now?" He tried to sit up then, but only made it a short way before there was a sharp, stabbing pain below his rib. He grimaced and fell back onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Take it easy," Chas said, eyeing him with concern.

The exorcist turned his head away from Chas to look at the empty chair on the other side of the bed. "Where's Zed?" He asked.

Chas shrugged. "She went for a walk. Said she needed to clear her mind of a few things."

John groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Now his head was starting to hurt—pretty much every part of his body was aching at this point. "I'm such a bloody prat, Chas," he said, without opening his eyes.

"I'll agree with that," Chas replied.

John shot his friend a glare, then looked away and gazed upward at the white plastered ceiling. "I said something to her I shouldn't have said."

Chas raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

John narrowed his gaze as he continued to look at the ceiling. He was recalling his fight with her back at the hotel. It seemed as if the falling-out had been ages ago, and yet he remembered it very clearly. Then he sighed, and his eyelids began to droop. "I guess it's her bloody choice if she wants to fool around with that cop."

Chas couldn't help but laugh, which earned another icy glare from his friend. "You're still mulling over that?"

"You knew about it?"

Chas nodded, still chuckling. "She told me."

John groaned and closed his eyes again. Going back to sleep sounded like a great idea right about then. Memories were beginning to surface, like he was traveling backwards in time. First there was Manny's warning of Abraxas' imminent return, and then there was the bit about Lori being involved with the whole case somehow. Yet John couldn't piece together how the young game warden fit into everything at that moment, and so his mind trailed back further—back to when he lay dying, looking up at Zed. He didn't know where he had been in that moment; all he knew was that Zed had been there. And he couldn't forget the look of shock and fear on her face. Had those been tears in her eyes?

The click of the door opening brought John out of his trance, and he rolled his head to the side to see Zed standing in the doorway. But she wasn't looking at him—instead she looked over at Chas, an expression of clear concern apparent on her face.

Chas looked up, and noticed the urgency in her eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"I think I just had a vision," she explained, as she slowly walked over to the bed and took a seat in her chair. It was then that she looked over and noticed John watching her. The consternation in her face quickly melted away and she smiled. "Hey, you're awake," she said with a heavy note of relief.

John smiled back—an honest, genuine smile that put Zed at ease. But the moment was short-lived. His expression quickly shifted to one of concern, and his eyes seemed to take on a darker shade. "What did you see?" he asked her.

Zed looked away, recalling the fleeting moment during her walk where she'd happened to glance into one of the rooms at the end of the hall. At first she had seen nothing out of the ordinary—there was an elderly man sleeping in the hospital bed, and a middle-aged woman seated at his bedside. But then, as she'd looked away and taken another step down the hall, she was suddenly _in_ that room. And when she looked down at the person lying in the bed, it was no longer the elderly man. Instead, she'd seen a young, blonde woman. A woman she'd instantly recognized.

"I saw Lori in one of the hospital beds," Zed started, "and she was talking to a nurse."

"The game warden?" Chas asked. He appeared perplexed for a moment. "Is she okay?"

"She's not actually here," Zed continued, "but she _was_."

"What were they talking about?" John asked.

Zed drew in a deep breath. In that moment she'd stood in the hospital room, she had felt Lori's overwhelming grief. Just the thought of the conversation brought a sickening feeling to her stomach. "She was in a car accident—a drunk driver hit her," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she recalled the conversation. "And her son was killed."

John thought for a moment. "Huh," he mused. "Manny told me Lori was involved with this case somehow. But what I can't figure out is how her accident is related to—" He stopped a moment, a sudden awareness dawning on him. Thinking back a few days prior, he remembered the vision Zed had described back when they'd been in Kara's room. The rural mountain road, and the image of the person who had invoked the vision.

"Zed...who was the drunk driver?" He asked suddenly.

"Some guy named Kevin," she replied. "That's all I heard."

Chas looked up then, his eyes wide. "Oh my god."

John rolled his head to look at him. "What?"

"Kevin Woodward. Kara's father. He's serving a five year sentence for involuntary manslaughter." He furrowed his brows and looked over at Zed. "He was the driver."

Zed's eyes grew wide. "He killed Lori's son."

"And Lori wanted revenge..." Chas started.

"So she had Kara kidnapped to get even," John finished their thought. He rolled his head the other way to look back at Zed. "You're brilliant, love."

Zed smiled, but her face quickly fell as a new worry dawned on her. "Do you think Lori has Kara?"

"Most likely," John replied as he attempted to sit up again. Needles shot through his chest and abdomen, but he grimaced and pushed through the pain until he was sitting up. "We need to get out of here," he breathed, still recovering from the effort.

"You're not ready," Chas insisted, eyeing his friend wearily. Zed nodded in agreement.

But the exorcist just rolled his eyes. "Save it, mate. I'll be fine." Gritting his teeth, he reached over with one arm and slid the IV needle out of his hand, then began pealing the electrode stickers from his chest. Once that was accomplished, he threw off his blanket. His face fell in dismay when he noticed he was only wearing a pair of boxers. "Chas, where the bloody hell are my trousers?" He questioned impatiently, looking over at his friend.

"Oh, your clothes are long gone," Chas stated matter-of-factually. "There was too much blood to save them."

John groaned and after all his effort, fell back onto the bed and slung a forearm over his face. With a sigh, Chas stood up and headed towards the door. "I'll call the sergeant," he said. "He'll be here in no time to take us back to the station."

"Tell him to bring my stuff," John grumbled without looking up. Chas just smirked and shook his head before exiting the room.

There was a length of silence before John opened an eye to look over at Zed. She was watching him, the concern still evident on her face. Her eyes traced up and down the fresh lines of stitches on his torso, noticing how the wounds seemed to be concentrated up near his lungs and heart. The demon clearly hadn't been attacking blindly—it had been aiming for the kill.

"Enjoying the show there?" He asked, noticing her eyes on him.

She looked up at him and smiled, but shook her head. "It's really stupid of you to break out of the hospital in this condition."

"Like I said, I'll be fine." He closed his eyes again and drew in a deep breath. "Honestly I just really need a ciggy right about now."

At that, she chuckled and shook her head again. "Of course." There was a pause and then she looked at John again, who still hadn't moved from his defeated position. "John, I—" Her brows furrowed as she searched for the right words. "I'm sorry. About what I said back at the hotel."

He looked back at her, a certain softness in his gaze. A smile touched his lips and he let out a deep sigh. "Don't worry about it, love." His arm slid off his face to rest at his side and he stared up at the ceiling. Though he would never admit it, she was probably right to be angry with him, and he deserved it. "I'm sorry too," he finally said after a length of silence.

Zed gasped. "I didn't know those words were in your vocabulary."

He chuckled softly, and his eyes met hers. When his expression became pensive again, he said, "Jim is a good man. I just want you to be prepared when the...inevitable occurs."

She nodded solemnly, remembering her vision of a blood-spattered Jim Corrigan. The memory was disturbing enough, and she blinked her eyes quickly to chase the image away. When she looked back at John, there was a crestfallen look in his dark eyes, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something he wanted to say.

After a moment, he drew in a deep breath. "Zed, I—"

The door opened then, and Chas strode in carrying a duffel bag. He tossed it onto the bed next to John. "Gehring is here, so we can head out whenever you two are ready." He strode over to a cabinet on the far wall and began rummaging through the mess of glass vials.

"Fantastic," John said, slowly making his way back to a sitting position. He grabbed the duffel bag and rummaged around until he found a clean change of clothes. He threw a white shirt over his head, then looked over at Chas. "What are you doing there, mate?"

Chas glanced over his shoulder. "I thought I'd steal some morphine."

Zed laughed and stood up to walk over to Chas. "Morphine? Please, he's gonna need the Oxycontin." She began rummaging through the vials and bottles until she found a particularly tiny one with a red cap.

"Great," John replied. "You two just go ahead and get me all nodded out." He continued rummaging in his bag, and after pulling out a pair of pants, he paused and looked downward. "Bollocks," he muttered.

"What?" Chas asked, as he took a couple more vials from the shelf. Zed continued picking up and rotating the little bottles.

"Either of you wanna help me yank this tube outta the ol' knob?"

Chas wrinkled his face in disgust. "Your catheter? Sorry, you're on your own for that."

Zed laughed and gathered up a few more bottles. "We'll be waiting outside," she said. She and Chas slipped the bottles of painkillers out of sight and left the room, leaving John to deal with his predicament.

They leaned up against the wall, and Zed looked over at Chas. "It's nice to see that nearly dying hasn't changed him one bit," she said with a smirk.

Chas chuckled. "I didn't think it would."

They waited a little while longer, listening to the noises of the hospital and the muffled complaining coming from room 120. A few minutes later John came limping out, dressed but with a pinched look on his face. He glared over at Chas. "No more hospitals."

They made their way out to the exit, where Sergeant Gehring was waiting for them. After they had piled into the cruiser and were headed down the main road, John leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He still couldn't ignore Manny's warning. If Abraxas was truly going to return, how would he kill it? The demon had very nearly killed him—scratch that, _had _technically killed him. And this time, he knew Chas and Zed weren't going to let him go anywhere on his own. Heck, he probably couldn't make it anywhere on his own in his condition anyway.

_"You need to destroy what is keeping Abraxas alive,"_ Manny had said. _"Find what is binding it to this plane."_

But no matter how much John contemplated it, he couldn't come up with anything. If Abraxas came back, he felt certain there wouldn't be a way to defeat it.


	15. Chapter 15

Only a few days after the demon had abducted Kara, Lori had looked up from her desk to see three newcomers entering the ranger's station. The one whose name she knew—John—had asked her about the forest fires. She should have made the connection right then, but it wasn't until he asked her about Kara's disappearance that she realized they had made the association the police hadn't. They knew the demon was linked with the abduction. How, she had no idea, but she knew she had to throw them off of her trail somehow.

And so Lori had attempted to show them her willingness to help with the investigation. She had shown John her sympathy when his friend had gone missing after the fire—and in truth, she _did_ feel bad that the forest fires were bringing so much destruction to the park. Not that the fires were her fault, but at the same time, she had made a deal with the demon responsible. Guilty by association.

Then, when John had come to her doorstep early one morning, she took full advantage of the opportunity. She knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered her connection to the Woodward family. Framing Sergeant Gehring, though she hated to do it, bought her a little time. She had nervously contemplated what to do to distract John. She had thought that perhaps he would be reluctant to investigate a woman he was involved with. Besides, she couldn't deny the fact that she found him attractive—and so she had kissed him. At first, her ruse seemed to be working. But when she had tried to get him to the bedroom, he'd blatantly refused. It had both surprised and offended her. He mentioned something about another woman, and then left promptly after that.

So she had went to work that day, as if it were any other day. She sat at her desk now, typing up a report on some illegal trapping activity in the park. Her work bored her now, and she longed to be out in the field again, as she had been prior to the car accident. Taking a break from her typing, she leaned back in her chair to look out the window. Her desk sat right in the foyer of the station, and she had a full view of the parking lot. The tall trees swayed in the wind, their leaves glimmering in the bright sun. A gentle breeze made its way through the open windows, and she smiled. It really was a beautiful day. For some time she stared out the window longingly, daydreaming of hiking the mountain trails. When she saw Gehring's cruiser pulled into the lot, she came out of her reverie and watched as he parked right next to her own cruiser. The doors opened then, and none other than John and his two friends stepped out.

It was apparent right away that John was in significant pain. As soon as he got out of the cruiser he leaned up against it, clutching the upper left side of his chest. One of his friends came around to him—the girl with the dark curls—and put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him worriedly. Lori wondered what had happened. A bear attack? She considered it a moment, but there hadn't been any bear sightings at Clingmans Dome in several months. Then, it clicked with her. John had come searching for the demon, and he had found it. Whether he knew her connection to the case yet or not, she couldn't risk waiting to find out. And so she hurriedly hopped up from her desk and made her escape out the back door of the station.

.o.o.o.o.

"John, are you _sure_ you don't want to go back to the hotel and rest?" Zed asked, eyeing the exorcist wearily. "Chas and I can go to Lori's house and find Kara."

Still clutching his chest, John let out a deep breath and waited for the wave of pain to subside. "No, love," he finally answered. There was no way he was letting Chas and Zed deal with Lori on their own. Mostly because he feared the demon could return at any minute. Or worse, Lori might be able to command it.

Chas came around the cruiser then, and handed John a small white bottle. "Take another one of these," he said.

John stared at the little bottle of Oxycontin. "I've already taken three. Are you two trying to kill me?"

Zed smirked. "Nah. Knock you out maybe, but we would never be that mean."

He sighed and took the bottle from Chas, twisted it open and popped a small white pill in his mouth. Then he took a deep breath and pushed off the side of the cruiser. "Let's get this over with," he said, grimacing against the dull ache in his chest.

Chas and Zed followed John into the station. They entered the foyer, and it was immediately obvious that Lori wasn't there. John looked around a moment, and then turned to Sergeant Gehring who had entered the station behind them.

"Where's Lori Molter?" He asked.

Gehring looked at the empty office chair and shrugged. "Maybe she went home for her lunch break."

Chas glanced up at the clock. "It's almost three o'clock," he noted, and then looked worriedly over at John.

The exorcist narrowed his eyes, then turned to Chas and Zed. "She's running. And I know where she'll have to stop first."

They hurried out the door without another word, much to the mystification of Sergeant Gehring, who simply shrugged and headed back to his office. John, Chas, and Zed piled into the cab and flew back down the mountain road.

"Take a left here," John instructed as Chas neared the intersection at the entrance to the park. They rounded the corner and sped down a winding road. Chas took the curves as fast as was possible without flipping the cab, eventually coming to a dirt driveway hidden behind a row of tall pine trees.

"Right here," John said.

The cab pulled into the driveway, and a short distance later they were sitting in front of Lori Molter's house. They hopped out of the car, and started for the front door. But before any of them could set foot on the porch, the door flew open.

"Get back," A firm voice ordered. It was Lori, and she wasn't alone. Locked behind her forearm was a young girl, pale and thin, with tears streaming down her face. The game warden was holding a Glock pistol to the girl's head. "Get back or I'll shoot her."

"Kara," Zed gasped. She held her hands up cautiously, taking a step backwards. Chas followed suit and backed away.

But John glowered at the game warden and clenched his fists. "Don't do this, Lori," he threatened.

Lori took a step forward, still clutching Kara in front of her. The young girl let out a whimper as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. John's faced tensed nervously, and he backed away from the porch as Lori stepped down onto the dirt driveway, making a move towards her parked SUV. "Leave now or I'll kill her."

Though his hands were still up in mock surrender, John continued to glare at Lori. "No you won't," he replied. His eyes narrowed and he slowly lowered his hands. "You won't hurt her."

"John!" Zed snapped from behind him. But he ignored her.

"You couldn't hurt that girl before and you won't hurt her now," he insisted. Though his voice suggested he was confident, his eyes flashed nervously from Lori down to the girl being held hostage in her grasp. "Just let her go," he said quietly.

But Lori shook her head vigorously, and pressed the gun harder into the side of Kara's head. Kara squeezed her eyes shut, more tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't let her go," Lori insisted. "He has to know what it's like," her voice trembled slightly, but she held her resolve. "He has to know what it's like to lose a child. He _has _to be punished for what he did."

"John, we can't risk her safety," Chas warned, looking over at his friend wearily. "She could snap."

"Oh, I've already _snapped_," Lori fumed, the anger rising in her voice. "That happened a long time ago. That happened when my son was murdered, and his killer got nothing but a slap on the wrist. Hardly any punishment." Her voice shook now, and the gun in her hand began to tremble. She was on the verge of tears. "Where is the justice in that?!"

John took a step forward then, looking Lori straight in the eye. He could see the intense anger in her eyes, but beneath that there was pain. Her eyes spoke clearly of the agony and horrible bereavement she had suffered. "You think Kevin isn't being punished?" John asked quietly, as he continued to slowly approach the game warden. She responded by pressing the muzzle of the pistol even harder into Kara's skull.

"Not even a little," Lori spat. "Five years in jail. But he'll be out in just three months now on time served and good behavior." She looked away then, blinking furiously to fight away the oncoming tears. "He _killed_ my son, John."

"You're right, love. He did," John replied. He stopped just a few feet in front of Lori. She responded by clutching Kara even tighter against her body, the gun never moving from its target.

But John didn't seem swayed. He took a deep breath and glanced down at Kara, then back up at Lori. "Kevin took an innocent life, and he has to live with that now," he started. "He has to go about his life, forever carrying the burden of knowing that if he hadn't made that one mistake, your son would still be alive." He looked away then, his lips set in a firm line. When he turned his head back to look at Lori, she was eyeing him with skepticism.

"You don't know that," she insisted. "Kevin doesn't care about what he did."

John narrowed his eyes at her. "I _do_ know, Lori. I _know _the guilt he has to live with the rest of his life. And let me tell you, it's the ultimate punishment. There is nothing worse than living a life dictated by your own guilt and self-hatred." He paused a moment, then took a deep breath. "I can guarantee that Kevin is being punished in the worst way possible."

The game warden watched him, and she was visibly shaking now. The gun felt like a dead weight in her hand, and she could feel Kara's frantic breathing beneath her arm.

"Do you really want to have this girl's blood on your hands?" John continued. "Is that going to make you feel better? Because I don't think that's going to bring your son back—in fact I think it would insult his memory."

"But K-Kevin will know what he—"

"He's never going to forget what he did, and he's never going to forget your son," John insisted. He took another slow step towards Lori, reaching out cautiously with one arm to grab Kara by the shoulder. "I know you don't want to hurt her, Lori."

Lori was weeping now, and John seized the opportunity. As Lori's grasp on Kara slackened and the muzzle of the gun drooped towards the ground, he pulled Kara towards him quickly. To his surprise, Lori didn't try to stop him. Her arms fell to her side in defeat and she looked away, a silent tear rolling down the side of her face.

Zed jumped into action quickly, coming over to John and grabbing Kara. She whisked the little girl out of harms way, and walked her over to the cab to comfort her. "It's okay, Kara," Zed told her softly. "We're going to take you home to your mom."

Kara nodded, reaching up to wipe away a tear. Chas walked over to the cab then and opened the door to get in, but looked back to see John still standing in front of Lori.

"What is he doing?" Zed asked.

"I don't know," Chas replied.

John held his hand out to Lori. "Give me the gun, love."

Lori didn't acknowledge him, but continued to look off into the distance. She gripped the gun tightly, and her hand was still shaking.

"Lori, give me the gun," John repeated, a little more urgently.

This time, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can't."

"If you don't give me the gun—" John started, but he didn't get the chance to finish. Lori suddenly looked straight at him, a new glint in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, John," she said. "But I can't let you leave now."

The exorcist hesitated, and was about to ask what she meant, when Lori spoke again.

"Abraxas," She commanded with a new-found determination. "Kill them."

John's eyes grew wide and he took a step backwards. The sudden stench of burning flesh stung his nostrils, and he spun around to see the demon standing there, its yellow eyes glaring at him with all of its hatred. He could only stare back at the demon, knowing he was powerless to fight it. His jaw tensed nervously, and he tried desperately to piece together a plan in the fleeting seconds before the demon lunged at him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: Here we are, the second to last chapter! The next one will just be kind of an epilogue to tie up a few loose ends, but if you're one of my fellow John/Zed shippers, I would stick around for it. ;) Enjoy! _

"Lori, don't do this!" John yelled, just as he dodged to avoid Abraxas' claws. The demon uttered a threatening growl, then turned to lunge at him again.

Lori watched with a pained expression, but John could tell it wasn't sympathy she was feeling. Abraxas came towards him, claws outstretched. The exorcist jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out his knife—although he knew it wouldn't be enough to kill the demon. Not yet. As the demon's grotesque hand came within inches of his throat, John rammed the blade forward, sinking it straight through the palm of Abraxas' hand. It screeched and took a step backwards as the flesh hissed and smoldered.

John took advantage of the brief moment the demon would need to recover. He spun around to look at the game warden. "Lori," he panted. "You don't have to do this. We can help you."

She let out a halfhearted chuckle and looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry John, but I do."

"Lori!" John yelled, but his efforts were in vain. There was a menacing hiss, and he spun around to see the demon coming back for him. It was faster this time, and although John tried to duck out of the way, he felt Abraxas' claws tear into his shoulder. Although at that point, he only felt the pressure of the blow. The pain wasn't there yet. He absently noted to thank his friends for nearly overdosing him on opiates.

Abraxas was fuming now. It bared its teeth and splayed its claws, and John knew the demon wasn't playing around anymore. Before he could blink, the demon stood mere inches in front of John's face, and he suddenly felt the icy grip of its hand around his throat. He gasped, waiting for the inevitable strike of the demon's claws.

"Wait," Lori said suddenly.

The demon looked up at Lori, the rage swimming in its yellow orbs. John let out a deep breath but didn't move. Abraxas still held him by the throat, so he couldn't turn to look at Lori. But he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was still seething with hatred and anger.

"Save him for last," she said sternly. "Kill his friends first. Maybe then he'll understand."

John swallowed nervously. "Don't you da—" Abraxas' grasp closed tighter around his neck, cutting off his words.

Chas and Zed had been helplessly watching the struggle from over by the cab, desperately trying to figure out how to help John. Chas was digging through the exorcist's leather bag, searching in vain for something that could help them. But he heard Lori's words then, and he looked up, startled. Zed's eyes grew wide, and she took a step backwards. Her hand reached out behind her to gently nudge Kara into the cab. The little girl, still trembling, sank down into the backseat. Zed closed the door slowly as she continued to stare at the ghastly creature.

The demon hesitated for a moment, looking John straight in the eye with a violent fury. He struggled to breathe as the demon's grasp on his throat tightened. But with one hand, John managed to reach up and grasp Abraxas' pale, bony wrist. "You kill me," he gasped out. "Kill me and leave them alone."

Chas looked nervously over at Zed. "You need to get out of here," he told her. "I can buy you a little time." He dug into his pocket and held out the car keys. "Take Kara and go."

She glanced at the keys, then worriedly looked up at him. "Chas, I can't—"

"You have to," he insisted, thrusting the keys into her hands. "If you're in danger, he's in danger. I have souls in the bank, I can hold that thing off for a few minutes."

Zed hesitated, and looked back at the demon. Abraxas was watching them, and then it shifted its gaze to look back at John. Before, the demon hadn't sensed any fear in the man. But now, as soon as Lori mentioned killing his friends, it could practically taste John's panic and anger.

"Kill them," Lori urged, eyeing Abraxas impatiently.

The demon glanced at her, then back at John. With a smirk, it let go of the exorcist and turned to observe Zed and Chas. John dropped to the ground, panting to catch his breath. "Stop, Lori," he breathed out. He took a few more gulps of air, then stood up slowly to glare at her. "You won't be able to control Abraxas much longer. It'll kill you once it breaks free."

For the first time, a look of amusement flashed across the game warden's face, and she laughed. "Abraxas won't hurt me," she said. "We have a deal. It does what I want in exchange for my soul." She then looked passed John at the demon as it continued to size up Zed and Chas. "Do it, Abraxas."

Slowly, the demon approached them. Chas looked over at Zed, who was still standing frozen in place, clutching the car keys. "Zed you have to get out of—"

But he didn't get the chance to finish. In a flash, the demon was in front of Chas. It lashed its claws out in one swift movement, slicing clean through his throat. His eyes opened wide in shock as the blood poured from his jugular, cascading down his front. Zed cried out and backed away as Chas collapsed onto the ground in a dark red pool of blood.

John gripped the knife tightly and ran at the demon. Before it could even turn to look at Zed, the exorcist jammed the blade into Abraxas' back. It screeched in agony as the blade burnt its skin, then spun around to glare at John. It hissed menacingly and threw out a hand, catching John in the jaw and knocking him to the ground. The exorcist tried to hop back up, but the demon held out a hand, pinning him to the ground with an unseen force. It then turned to Zed.

"Kill _me_, you bastard," John grunted, straining against the demon's spell. But Abraxas ignored him and made a move towards Zed. She took a step back, but had nowhere to run.

"Lay a bloody finger on her and I'll—"

Abraxas threw out a hand again, pinning him even harder to the ground. John gasped and fell back. Straightaway he hoisted himself halfway up with his arms, but couldn't move any further. The demon's spell made his whole body feel like lead. It was as if the force of gravity had just multiplied tenfold. He couldn't move, and he was powerless to help Zed.

Lori came forward then, and though her eyes still expressed pain, she was smiling. "See John," she started, "_this_ is the pain I've been living with for the past four years. _This _is what it feels like to lose someone you love." She turned to Abraxas. "Finish her."

Abraxas stood in front of Zed now. She was frozen in place, staring back into the demon's hypnotic yellow eyes—the same eyes she had seen in her visions, and in the photograph of the lodge fire. She could hear John yelling, but she was so focused on the demon's gaze that she didn't register what he was saying. Its yellow eyes spoke of nothing but fury and a deeply ingrained hatred.

"Zed, _run_!" John yelled. He fought and fought against Abraxas' spell, but he was getting nowhere. He could only watch helplessly as the demon flexed its claws and rushed at her. "No!" He cried out.

She ducked. Its claws flew over her head, whistling as they sliced through empty air. But she was on the ground now, and the demon straightened up to glower at her. Then, it smirked and flashed its fangs. "I like the feisty ones," it sneered as it took a step forward to close the distance between them.

John blinked furiously and turned his head to look at Lori. "I am _begging_ you," he said, his voice threatening to break. "Do whatever you want to me, just _please_ stop this."

The game warden looked down at him, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, John," she said, though her tone was unsympathetic. "This is what you get for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

There wasn't anything he could do. John blinked away tears of rage as he looked on helplessly. Abraxas took another step towards Zed, raising its claws to deliver the fatal blow. "Zed!" John yelled, his voice breaking.

She watched the demon's pale hand rise slowly upwards against the blue sky. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The sun reflected off its sharp claws, and its glassy yellow eyes glinted in the evening light. There was a quiet breeze that whispered through the trees. And then its hand was moving, claws aimed directly for her throat. But as Zed watched the demon's hand fall towards her, she heard a voice. A quiet, gentle voice that made her head turn. Abraxas seemed stunned, and its claws halted mid-strike.

"Mommy?" The voice asked faintly.

Lori's breath caught in her chest, and she looked up. She hadn't heard that voice in four years, but she would know it anywhere. "Carter?" She whispered.

The faint image of her son appeared there, only a few yards in front of her. He was just the same as she remembered him—a smiling, bright-eyed little boy. He appeared happy, and full of life. "I'm okay, Mommy," Carter said. "You don't need to be sad anymore."

"Carter?" She repeated, reaching a hand out to her son. But the apparition flickered, threatening to melt away. "Carter, baby," she started. But it was all she could say before she broke down into tears and fell to her knees on the dirt drive. She looked up at her son and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. And then, a smile touched her lips—her first real smile since the car accident.

Carter took a small step towards her. "Don't hurt these people," he said quietly. "The angel doesn't want you to hurt them."

Lori nodded as she continued to smile at her son. She wanted more than anything to reach out and embrace him, but knew she could not. It broke her heart, but at the same time, seeing how peaceful and happy her son was offered her solace.

As quickly as he had appeared, the little boy vanished. A tranquil silence settled around them, and the evening sun began to cast long shadows across the dirt drive. Lori stared at the empty space where Carter had just stood, and for a long moment, no one spoke.

The demon slowly lowered its hand, looking over at Lori. Zed let out a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. Glancing at the game warden, Zed could tell that something had changed. The atmosphere was lighter, and the sun felt warm on her skin again. Abraxas backed away, still looking at Lori with a questioning gaze. But the game warden could only stare blankly, still holding on to that fleeting moment.

John felt the demon's invisible spell slacken, and he sprang to his feet. Abraxas turned to look at him, but had no time to react as the exorcist sank his knife deep into the demon's chest. And this time, he could feel the blade penetrate the infinite darkness within the entity. Abraxas cried out, electricity coursing through its body. Thick, black smoke curled up from the ground, completely engulfing the demon. For a moment, its cries could be heard through the wall of smoke. But the shrieks suddenly came to an abrupt stop. The smoke quickly dissipated, and the demon was gone.

Panting, John dropped the knife to the ground, and then rushed over to Zed. He helped her stand, and then looked her up and down. "Are you alright?"

"I'm...fine," she said slowly, looking over to where the demon and the little boy had stood just moments ago. "That was her son?" she asked, still trying to understand what she had just seen.

John nodded, then looked over at Lori. The game warden was still kneeling in the dirt, her head buried in her hands. It was clear that she was crying, though she didn't utter a sound. Had she not just tried to kill them, he may have felt a pang of sympathy for her.

There was a muffled groan then, and John turned to see Chas slowly pushing off the ground from where he'd been laying in the pool of blood. "Ah, back from the dead," John said with a tepid smirk.

Chas rubbed his neck and grimaced as he walked over to where Zed and John stood. He saw Lori kneeling on the ground, and then looked around questioningly. "What'd I miss?" he asked. "Where's the demon?"

"It's gone," John replied quietly, looking back at Lori as she began to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"So what now?" Chas asked, after a short pause. "Take her to the police?"

John shrugged, still watching the game warden closely. She slowly stood up from the ground, and then looked over at them as if she wanted to say something. But instead, she bit her lip as she turned away and walked back towards her house.

They watched her go, and then John let out a sigh. "She can't hurt anyone anymore." He narrowed his eyes as Lori disappeared quietly behind the front door. "We have nothing tangible to turn her in on."

So they left the game warden to brood on her own. Zed sat in the back of the cab, comforting Kara as she sniffled and wiped away a few stray tears. The poor girl had been locked away for over six days, and Zed assured her that the long ordeal was over. John sat in the passenger seat, turning his head to examine the wound on his shoulder.

Chas glanced over at him as they drove down the rural mountain road towards Kara's home. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Doesn't that hurt?" He asked.

John shook his head. "Not yet." But even as he said it, he winced and reached for the small bottle sitting in the console of the cab.

They drove on as the sky grew darker, and soon arrived at the Woodward home. The cab had barely stopped before Kara jumped out onto the driveway and ran to the porch, pausing only a brief moment to throw open the front door. From inside the cab, they could see the expression of shock and relief on Shannon's face when she rushed into the foyer to see her daughter, alive and well.

Chas smiled as they watched the reunion. "I'd say our work here is done," he said. He flipped the cab into reverse and backed down the driveway.

John nodded and dug into his pocket for his Silk Cut and lighter. "Don't know about you two, but I'm bloody knackered."

"That makes two of us," Zed replied.

"Three," Chas corrected, wrinkling his face to fight off a yawn.

And so they drove off down the rural mountain road as the sun sank below the peaks of the Great Smoky Mountains.


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Note: Well, here we are! The final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with it and left me kind reviews. I really do appreciate it! I know it isn't perfect by any means, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. This is also probably the first lengthy story I've written for anything ever, so I can only improve from here (I hope!). Anyways, thanks again! And here's to hoping that some network picks up this wonderful show that we all miss so much!_

It was a quarter passed midnight when the old blue truck finally rolled down the familiar dirt road, coming to a stop in front of the mill house. John switched the engine off and sat there for a moment, listening to the soft tinkering beneath the hood. Then he looked over at Zed. She had fallen asleep at some point during the drive back, and now sat with her head leaning up against the window. As he sat there in the darkness, watching her by the light of a nearly full moon, he recalled how he had come so close to losing her not once but twice on this particular case. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, the thought terrified him. It confirmed something he'd known for a while now—that he couldn't imagine his life without her.

There was the soft rustling of feathers, and he blinked to see that Zed had been replaced by none other than Manny. John rolled his eyes and groaned. "Really? What could you possibly want now?" He asked.

The angel looked over at him, somewhat offended. "I just came to tell you that you did well."

At that remark, John had to laugh. "Yeah, sure. Did Hell freeze over?"

Manny's face became very serious. "Not yet. But we're working on it."

That's right. Angels didn't respond to sarcasm. John let out a sigh and leaned his head back. "Just tell me why you're really here, Manny."

"No, I'm serious. You've done well with this case," the angel started. He narrowed his eyes when John shot him an irritated look. "But I hope this has been a lesson for you that human emotions—sorrow, anger—they're like a beacon for evil. Demons prey on people in their darkest moments."

John rolled his eyes over in Manny's direction. "Yeah, I got that."

"And not only do they attract demons," the angel continued, "they _bind_ demons as well."

There was a pause as John considered the words. "So Lori's grief is what bound Abraxas. Seeing her son must have been enough for her to let go of that." There was a pause, and he glanced over at the angel watching him. "Thanks for the save, by the way," he added.

"Oh, I didn't send the boy's spirit," Manny replied. But he continued before John had the chance to question it further. "The barrier between Hell and Earth gets thinner every day," he said. "You best be prepared for similar situations." His stern gaze never faltered as he watched the exorcist, and his gold eyes seemed to glimmer in the moonlight.

"And where might I find these 'similar situations?'" John turned his head lazily to look at the angel now, but Manny was already gone. Now Zed sat there, wide awake and looking slightly dazed. John let out a groan, but wasn't surprised. Manny always left just in time to avoid answering critical questions.

Zed ran a hand through her untamed curls and looked over at John. "We're back already?" She asked, turning to peer out the window at the dark trees and the silhouette of the mill house.

John chuckled and opened the door, stepping out onto the dirt drive. He strolled around to her side of the truck as she too climbed out. "I think you trust me a bit too much, love," he said.

"Why's that?" she asked, giving him a perplexed look.

"I'm high, and not only did you let me drive, but you went so far as to fall asleep on the way back."

She laughed then, and started towards the mill house. "You're not _that_ high." He smirked and shook his head as he followed her towards the door. But she stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. "John, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Why did you really let Lori go? I mean, are you sure she's not a danger anymore?"

John hesitated a moment, then looked off to the side in consideration. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer to Zed's question; in fact, he knew exactly why he hadn't bothered turning Lori in. But to answer that question truthfully would risk revealing the inner self-loathing that he tried so hard to cover up. But she was watching him now, waiting for some sort of an explanation, and he couldn't rightfully lie to her.

"I recognized that look," he started slowly. "She's got nothing left to lose, and she knows it."

Zed narrowed her eyes, confused by his answer. "Sounds like that makes her even more unstable," she replied.

John shrugged, and took a couple slow steps forward. "It does, actually. But she's done looking for other ways to vent her anger. She's—" he hesitated, unsure how to word what he wanted to say. "on the brink, so to speak."

Zed's eyes grew wide, a sudden understanding dawning on her. "You really think she'll kill herself?" she asked quietly.

For John, there was no denying the utterly hopeless look in the game warden's eyes. He knew that look all too well—the one a person wore when they'd become nothing but a shell of their former selves. It was the same expression he'd become all too familiar with, looking in the mirror for some time after the incident at Newcastle. He knew Lori was at that breaking point, simply because he'd been there as well at one time in his life. Turning her in was pointless, because she had already made the decision that she wasn't bound for this world much longer.

"Let's just say I'm familiar with the notion," he said, jamming his hands into his pockets and making a sudden move to walk passed Zed.

But she put a hand out, grabbing him by the arm. He should have seen that coming.

"What are you talking about, John?" She stared at him now—the concern in her eyes was apparent, but her voice was soft.

He looked away, wondering how he could possibly explain the magnitude of the guilt he'd been living with ever since Newcastle. Even before that, his entire life had been built on a heavy conscious of compunction and bitterness, thanks to his father. How was he supposed to tell her that? Not that he wanted Zed to know how deep-rooted his guilt really was. In fact, he'd much rather she never find out that like Lori, he'd once stood at the very edge of taking his own life.

Zed watched him, waiting for some sort of an answer. Clearly he was trying to figure out how to avoid the question, but she didn't plan on letting him off that easy.

"Let's just say my life hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows," he answered quickly, taking a step to move passed her again.

But she pulled him back, glaring at him with an earnest determination. "You keep dodging my questions, John."

His eyes wandered off to the side, but she held onto his arm to prevent his escape. Letting out a deep sigh, John looked up into her eyes, noting the intensity in her gaze. She was persistent. It was an attribute of hers that both irritated and captivated him. But after their long journey, he was in no mood to discuss his past, nor anything dark and depressing for that matter.

"John," she started, her tone gentle yet impatient.

Clearly he wasn't going to get out of this so easily. For a moment, he just looked at her. Her face was half hidden in shadow by the moonlight, and he couldn't help but notice the way the pale luminescence seemed to soften her features and make her skin glow. He moved closer, and she continued to stare back with the same fiery resolve. Briefly he let his gaze slip downward, and when he glanced back up he saw that her expression had softened and there was a new gleam in her eye.

Maybe one day, Zed would know the depths of the anguish he'd lived with most of his life. But for the moment, he chose to silence her persistent questioning in the best way he knew. In one movement, he closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, halfway expecting to be slapped for it. But in that moment, he didn't care about the consequences. Heck, he'd been wanting to do it for quite some time, and after nearly losing her, he figured there was no time better than the present.

Zed felt the warmth of his lips against hers, and it sent a current running through her body. But the shock quickly dissipated. She relaxed and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be absorbed in the moment. She felt his hand brush the side of her neck, and she relaxed her grip on his forearm.

Then he pulled back slightly to look at her, and she opened her eyes slowly. At first she stared back at him with a blank expression, but to his relief, the surprise on her face quickly melted away and she smiled.

"You were right," she said softly. They were still close enough that she could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

"About what?" He asked, still searching her eyes to gauge her reaction.

"You _are_ high."

And at that, he laughed—a rare, genuine laugh that lit up his face and wrinkled the corners of his eyes. She smiled back, then kissed him again. He happily reciprocated, and in that moment, the stress of the case they'd just worked, and even the rising darkness hardly seemed to matter.

The glare of headlights and soft rumbling of an engine refocused their attention, and they turned to see the yellow cab pull up and park next to the truck. The door clicked open and Chas' voice floated to them through the darkness.

"Get a room!" He called out.

John rolled his eyes, and Zed laughed as Chas approached. After the long trip, John didn't have the energy to conjure up a witty reply. So he just let out a sigh as Chas handed him a bag to carry in, and they turned to head into the mill house for a much-needed rest. Chas entered first, followed closely by Zed, but John paused a moment before stepping over the threshold. He turned and looked up at the moon as it shone brightly like a watchful eye, high above. Everything was quiet for now, and although he knew the fight against the rising darkness would only become more treacherous, he felt a rare calmness settle over him as he looked up at the sky. The rising darkness would come, sure, but for that night he could rest easy knowing one demon had been successfully removed from the battle. And then there were his friends, two people he knew were in this fight with him for the long run. He smiled to himself, and then disappeared into the dim light of the mill house.

.o.o.o.o.

The next morning, Sergeant Gehring grew concerned when Lori didn't show up for work. It wasn't like her, and it made him even more nervous when she didn't answer her cell phone. Red flags went up immediately, and when he finally went to her house, he was shocked, yet not surprised, by what he found. She was sitting slumped over on the sofa, a bullet hole blown clean through the bottom of her jaw and out the top of her head. In one hand, she clutched her Glock, and in the other was a photograph of her son. It was a gruesome sight, and even a seasoned warden such as himself had to stand back as the police processed the scene, and the coroner arrived to remove the body. As his fellow officer and friend was wheeled away in a body bag, he hung around in the living room, observing the various photographs of Lori with her friends and family. As he looked at those lighthearted moments frozen in time, he couldn't help but realize that ever since the accident, Lori had never been herself. She'd never smiled like she did in those photographs, and her eyes never held the same spark of passion. Losing her son had destroyed her, and his only regret in that moment was that he hadn't taken further action to prevent her inevitable suicide.

As he continued to observe the photos, Gehring's eyes traveled from the walls and down to the coffee table. There sat a simple, white piece of stationary with a hand written note, speckled in tiny flecks of blood. He picked up the note and read it to himself:

_For as long as I can remember, I've heard stories about how Clingmans Dome is the mysterious, awe-inspiring place where demons hide. My childhood was filled with legends of monsters and other evil beings that roamed the mountainside, searching for souls to prey on and hikers to snatch away into the night. Even my little Carter seemed enthralled by the mystery surrounding the Dome. Can you believe that? A three-year-old who actually _likes _monsters? That little boy never failed to surprise me. But in the months after his death, I came to the realization that demons don't hide on a mountainside, and they don't hide in the forest. In fact, they don't even hide in the deepest depths of Hell. Even after I quite literally ran into an evil entity on my hike up the mountain, I can tell you for certain that demons don't hide there. They hide within us. They manifest themselves as the feelings of anger, guilt, and sorrow that have the power to consume your life and pull you into a darkness so deep, you forget what it even feels like to smile. It's as if the demons have sucked you into a pit of hopelessness that you can't claw your way out of, no matter how hard you try. I lived in that pit for four years after I lost Carter, but I think I've finally found my way out. Whoever reads this note, please know that I was trapped, and this was my only way out of that horrible pit. In the end, we can't let our demons win, right?_

**THE END**


End file.
